you belong to me and all of paris belongs to me and i belong to this notebook and this pencil

[evenifitsunday]

i'm reading hemingway and i don't hate it. this is shocking and frustrating because i fervently and LOUDLY loathed the sun also rises when it was required reading senior year and we had debates about whether it belonged on the reading list...it didn't...i might be changing my mind though...i'll never like sun but a moveable feast is enjoyable and i thought it was going to be a chore - instead it's a very pretty, comfortable reward. i thought i hated papa hemingway because i was more of a beat girl, kerouc and bukowski, long rambling, colorful, sometimes meaningless sentences. and obviously i enjoy that style and employ it often in my own writing. i like the freedom it offers and the natural, chatty and song-like prose it creates. but hemingway, with his 'rigid, disspassionately compressed' (thanks, nobelprize.org) narratives, offers something important as well. there are periods of time when my writing takes on a hemingway-eque simplicity, factual and concise - dissattached. i ruled him out for being a pig (he was) but i'm glad i gave his art another try.

i want to get a heart-vagina tattoo, i think it means everything important.

(i found these after reading the vagina monologues for the 3rd time. they're sculptures and they're beautiful and exactly what i had envisioned in my mind. the artist's website is here)









my hair is blonde. my hair has been blonde for the past 18 years, minus brief -BRIEF- intervals of red/brown/white/pink. but every customers thinks it's a crazy new development. "yuk yuk, is it true, do blondes have more fun, yuk!" your face has more fun.