Are any of y’all on twitter because that is the only place I will be posting about writing for the foreseeable future. But I mean. I’m still writing. @kalynroseanne
And also if you follow me and I don’t follow back right away send me a message! I want to follow you!
Are any of y’all on twitter because that is the only place I will be posting about writing for the foreseeable future. But I mean. I’m still writing. @kalynroseanne
Anonymous asked: I expect you hear it a lot (assuming the credit link was correct) but re: your prose that starts 'sometimes you're 23': it's 1am on my 24th and I read that waiting for the kettle to boil. I don't think a piece of writing has made me feel more at peace with the world than that since ever, really. Just a thank you for putting it out there. Hope you're doing well x
I am sorry it’s been so long. Maybe you are even 25 now. Still, your words mean so much to me today - as much as when I first saw them and thought, “I’ll answer soon.”
Truly, it made me incredibly joyful to read how you felt about that piece. Thank you for taking the time to tell me. I hope you’re doing okay amidst the strange and wild territory we’re all in. From my heart to yours, here is some love in the best way I know of to send it.
For the first time in ages, I am not struggling with putting pressure on myself to find time to write. Rather, I am struggling with giving myself permission to write after having spent so long prioritizing other things. What a strange calling this is.
I think it’s often that I feel something so big that it’s hard to describe. And water is a good way to describe something that feels so large and out of your control that you couldn’t put it in words. It’s so big a force, but it’s not malicious; it’s this kind of unknown thing.
—
Florence Welch, from an interview; Oct. 8, 2015.
So I’ve made a few prints recently and I have these 3 left over. Thought I’ll do a little give away for anyone that’s interested.
Reblog the post or share one of these photos on Instagram and tag me (jrdnvcmrn) and I’ll pick one at random next week and contact you to organise sending the prints
The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. written by Natalie Babbit
Illegal immigrants are our latest distraction, vilified as if they had come to run drugs and collect welfare rather than mow lawns, clean offices, pack meat, and process poultry. There is no welfare anymore, of course, and that may be what makes immigrants such an appealing target. Twenty years ago, right-wing demagogues had welfare recipients to kick around as a stand-in for the hated poor; today, immigrant workers have been pressed into playing the scapegoat role. The strategy is the same: to peel off some segment of the poorer classes, label them as enemies, and try to whip up rage that might have been directed at the economic overclass. There may be reasonable arguments for limiting immigration, but it wasn’t a Mexican who took away your pension or sold you on a dodgy mortgage. written by Barbara Ehrenreich, This Land is Their Land
