Everyone asks me about my “long distance relationship.” You see, my husband (and my partner for 8 years) lives in Texas. I, however, live in New York. I used to live in Texas, but had to move for graduate studies. We are both immigrants and have applied for green cards (he was lucky enough to…
n. a state of exhaustion with how shitty people can be to each other, typically causing a countervailing sense of affection for things that are sincere but not judgmental, are unabashedly joyful, or just are.
I am looking for people who might be interesting in starting a Humans of Karachi (google Humans of New York for reference)… I’m logistically too far away to do this myself since I do have some photos to contribute/start off with but not enough to keep it up and running. I’ll be able to photograph…
Life is meant to be lived at right angles. We have to form the perfect intersections, so our lifestyles can be sold. There’s people looking through the windows, looking as they walk along the beach, cobalt diamonds shimmering besides the burning sand. It’s a hot day, even in the shade. The lights go out, and no one chose to live the way they could if they would be me.
We have to run inside. It’s hilarious, really. We’re running, but we don’t know who to, what from, or why. But it’s funny when we’re running, and jumping, and skipping, and in love. So we do what it takes to make us laugh. Breathless, we stop at the couch, and pant at each other.
Clutching her hair, I tell her to stay right there. Suppressing a giggle, I tell her the kids are in the back, and we’re about to go to the beach. It’s all so damned ridiculous, really, but they’re waiting. And then, I can’t sit on the couch anymore. I can’t breathe. I need air. I need to know that windows are not mirrors, and left is not right.
She calls me back. I tell her to stay put. To not panic, so I can stop panicking, and get back to hold her hands. The kids, I tell her, think of the kids. And then I laugh. There aren’t any kids, not yet at least.
"No, not the beach. Let’s take them to Disneyland."
I shake my head, and laugh. “There is no Disneyland, baby. We HAVE to go to the beach. It’s right there.”
She titters. I am drenched, and the water’s 10 miles from where I am. The kids are still in the back.
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars…”—Jack Kerouac (via nuclearbattery)
In these houses, surrounded by photographs of happy times, I have learned to regret the fact that the only memories we will have forged will mix into the salt of our tears, and as we wipe them away to hide our shame, we will forget why we fell, and stayed, in love for so long, for so much.
hi. hi. what's the last awesome dream you remember?
Shit, I really need to start writing my dreams down again. The last one I remember that was pretty awesome was that I was on a beach with a bunch of people, and my friend Sanam was there. Everyone was drinking and doing a lot of drugs, and listening to music and dancing. I was sitting on a pier. The sun had just risen. It was bright and warm, and she came to me, hugged me, said “I’m so glad we’re here together”, and we just sat there, arm in arm, watching the blue water and the sunshine coating the waves as they crashed at our toes. I’ve had a couple after that, but I don’t remember them too well, so…
This enjoyably upbeat xx remix has been knocking about online for a few months now, but has been causing a bit of a stir on the blogs this week (in fact, it’s currently #3 on the Hype Machine chart). CS