California ~ A Study

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Dear Reader,

If you’ve been reading my blog for any period of time, you likely know my opinion on California is not very favorable. That being said, I am here until I leave for France (next week!!) and have been trying my hardest to see the best in everything. In a turn of events, I have succeeded to an extent thanks to my newfound addiction to film photography. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks taking pictures of things I find beautiful here (feat. my incredible friend and muse Shawn/love for neon signs). I hope you find them beautiful too.

And in other news, I posted a new playlist to the Music Forum last night ~ as always, music suggestions are very, very welcome!!

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XX, The Girl in the Little Black Dress

Blood Bank

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August 29, 2015: I spent the majority of that night looking over the edge of a crumbling brick roof. At the lights in the Financial District indicating all the stockbrokers working late shifts and at the Hudson curling behind the Brooklyn Bridge. I didn’t feel like I lived in New York yet, but I was also holding to the firm belief that I shouldn’t be anywhere else. It was a strange idea to explain, even to myself, but I knew I meant it.

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12:01 p.m.

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5:14 p.m.

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9:20 p.m.

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10:12 p.m.

April 29, 2016: I sat down across from them very late that night, and felt in one instant, that I was home again, and in the next, further than I ever had been. Perhaps if the walls had been pinker and time a bit kinder, I would have been.

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May 15, 2016: I imagined it would be oddly reassuring to return to all my problems in California.

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May 24, 2016: But I suppose now that I think about it, my problem was that I thought I had the right to change some people’s minds. The reality was, I didn’t have a claim over anybody, just like nobody had a claim over me. We were all on our own, regardless of how long I chose to believe otherwise.

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I took this out of my cousin’s skylight

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May 25, 2016: Sometimes I wonder how all these strange people ended up in my life and me in their’s and if either of us deserve it.

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May 28, 2016:  I listened to their music speeding across the southbound highway, alone in the glow of my glaring white bedroom, under brown street lamps, on Sunday afternoons. Their songs made the scenery brighter, the days more passable somehow. And while the people I cared about seemed to let me down ten ways before each day was over, I knew they had all been there too; I could hear it in the sound.

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May 31, 2016: It’s not that some things stop being important to us, it’s just that we forget how much, and I like to assume that’s for the best; we all kind of have to.

A couple years back I lost something, a tendency to see the best in people and the corresponding warmth, and I know I’ll never that get back. But I am no longer naive.

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May 3, 2016: The blue cushion crumpled up beneath me as I sat down and pulled my sleeve up. Somehow, it was hard to believe the dark red pool in the plastic bag was mine.  The nurse came back after a while, stripped the opaque paper from some bandages and set them across my arm.  ‘Thank you for caring for those you love’ I read on the band-aid box in her hand.

I had a good friend in second grade. After school, we’d walk out to her backyard and pile rose petals in an evaporated bird fountain. One day, she sliced open her index finger with a rose thorn and with blood dripping onto her white shoes, told me if we pushed our blood together, we’d be sisters forever. I squeezed a thorn between my thumbs, inhaled sharply when the skin yielded to a thin pulse of red. We mashed our fingers together. There, she said, sisters forever. It’s been years since we last spoke, but I still think about how nice it was back then — to believe it was possible to connect with someone else just by touching my finger to theirs. In fact, connection has little to do with touch.

And of all the stuff we lose in a year — friends and empathy and memory —  the only thing we ever see leave our body is blood.

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May 27, 2016: The days were softer then. I can recall with a very thick kind of clarity the time we spent lying underneath oak trees, watching the golden leaves rust brown. And there was always music, but we could never seem to find where it was coming from.

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Dear Reader,

I’ve developed a slight adoration for film photography. I spent last weekend in Napa at the Bottlerock Music Festival (featuring the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Death Cab For Cutie, Florence and the Machine, The Lumineers, X Ambassadors and so many more incredible bands) where I found myself so inspired by the beautiful scenery, people, and music. Yesterday, I got my film rolls from the weekend developed, and hopefully you enjoy how they turned out as much as I enjoyed taking them.

I also posted a new playlist featuring all songs I especially loved from the festival on the Music Forum, so please do go take a look and as always comment song/band/album suggestions.

I hope you have such an incredible weekend!

 

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XX, The Girl in the Little Black Dress

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