I can’t stop looking at Khizr Khan’s copy of the US constitution and how worn it is. SHOULDN’T WE ALL HAVE A COPY? SHOULDN’T ALL OF OUR COPIES BE THIS WORN?!
I REPEAT, LISA FRANK HAS RELEASED A CLOTHING LINE
I CAN FINALLY WEAR MY LEOPARD BABY TRAPPER KEEPER AS PANTS
I know that we are meant to focus NOT on What Hillary Wore, but instead on her convictions (“Do all the good you can, for all the people you can, in all the ways you can, as long as ever you can”) and her supporters (this father), but: she wore white.
Women wear white for weddings, aggressively after memorial day, to clam bakes if those are actually a thing, on rare days when we feel brand new, on boats, but also in the women’s suffrage movement:
and also WHEN THEY ACCEPT THE NOMINATION AS THE CANDIDATE FOR THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME.
Why must wedding invitations be addressed like the guest is being summoned to a 1943 boat or fairy or garden party? I shall address mine myself, with own handwriting, which is just as nice but just a touch more ‘middle schooler decides to become serial killer / sends threatening murder notes / but is also kind of in a hurry and is probably drinking coffee and or wine while writing it so just except one of those liquids to make it onto the envelope,’ but mildly legible.
Like probably most of the rest of America, or at least those tuned into the DNC out of support, or I guess spite: I can’t stop thinking about Michelle Obama’s career making groundbreaking uplifting speech, and this: When they go low, we go high. Such power. I hope these words find their way to license plates and t shirts and forearm tattooes and graduation cards and book forwards and novelty keychains and coffee mugs and CAN I WRITE THEM ON MY FACE? But most importantly, I hope they reach the heads and hearts of everyone in this country, no matter what the outcome in November.
n: a very specific sense of superiority felt exclusively when one makes a bunch of mini breakfast frittatas on a Monday night so that the whole week one can just casually grab a few mini breakfast frittatas and eat them before work LIKE A WOMAN FROM A FITNESS MAGAZINE.
I am obsessed with these skirts that are a long sheer matronly skirt over the short skirt of a woman with loose morals. They are that pioneer life but also disco night, they are both Quaker and Saved by the Bell, they are single but married, they are everything all of the time, which, for the indecisive girl on the go who is literally so indecisive she can barely even decide WHERE to even go (read: me) THEY ARE PERFECT.
I love coming up to Morrison’s family’s place in Olympia, Washington, because:
and more specifically because: it makes you slow down and stare at the sky and ask yourself large questions, think grand thoughts, which happens in normal life approximately never. Last night, Morrison remembered a quote which is something like ‘we are the universe beholding itself,’ meaning: the universe is vast and terrifying, until we remember that we came from it. And so, why be afraid? Instead just be in awe. (But also a little bit afraid because we are CONSTANTLY ON A ROCK WHICH IS HURTLING THROUGH SPACE AND TIMMMEEEEEE!) Actual quote is from a poem Hymn of Apollo by Percy Bysshe Shelley:
I am the eye with which the Universe
Beholds itself, and knows it is divine;
All harmony of instrument or verse,
All prophecy, all medicine, is mine,
All light of art or nature; – to my song
Victory and praise in its own right belong.
Okay sure, one might say that a human baby is just like any other human baby who will grow into a full sized human, who smiles occasionally but it’s probably just gas and occasionally poses with his chin on his hand or throws side eye, who sleeps sometimes, but really none of these things are all that remarkable, but one MAY NOT HAVE YET TO MEET MORRIS’S NEW NEPHEW MOJO WHO IS DESTINED FOR GREATNESS.
THREE MONTHS TIL THE WEDDING
MORRISON IS GOING TO START BULKING UP
I’M GOING TO START SLIMMING DOWN
SOON OUR SIZES WILL ECLIPSE EACH OTHER AND HE WILL LIFT ME LIKE A BABY CARROT UNDER A PECAN TREE