therealpantsy

[therealpantsy]

[therealpantsy]

[therealpantsy]

[therealpantsy]

[therealpantsy]

[therealpantsy]

Hello, it’s me.

[therealpantsy]

Wistful Dreams on Freckled Pavement~Rachel Courtney

       In the year of the second time I fell in love with you, I finally learned the secret to the art of argument.  Live with a pothead long enough and you truly begin to see the way into his psyche is not with yelling and screaming.  No.  Never.  It is mastering the ability to create dreams.  Make his Real Life seem more like his Fantasy Life and voila!  You will totally win the argument every time.  A stack of faded calendars in the corner will speak volumes of how long it has been since I left it all behind.  I can’t remember all the names or all the places, but I remember the times.  In the year of the second time I fell in love with you, I had become agreeably close to perfecting the art of disappearing. And in the end, that is what it comes down to.

The end; that’s what we’re always looking forward to.

Such little ironies always seem amplified when implicated in specific situations. Smoking a cigarette, perched off an ancient fire escape on a summer-hot New York City morning, gazing at the skyline and singing along to some dirty punk rock song. Sticking your head out the open window of a steamy hotel shower into the cold December air, watching the London night lights reflect in the water and listening to a deep resonance of techno over at the Palladium. Driving along the coast on A-1-A, and I just have to put on Beck for the sake of sentimentality.

To remember, in the end.

These moments, they remind me of what’s real. Combing through your soft hair with my fingers, smelling your cologne. It is the absence of things like those that make us forget sometimes that the other person is human, too. That they are real.

The last time I saw you was a month after we said it was over. At that skeezy bar and you were beautiful. Of course, I wasn’t handling it real well; getting shit-faced. When it was time to leave, my roommate was yelling the cab had arrived, but I went back for one last thing. What it was, cigarettes, maybe… I don’t know. But when I turned to leave again, you were there.

I don’t recall what you said to me or if I even listened, but I kissed you right then, in the middle of everyone. You were so beautiful.

I saw the world light up with awe, and you were there.

I swore I was never coming back.

            That was the last I saw of you, for the first time. Disappearing was exactly what I needed. So, I collected only essentials and said goodbye to all the old ghosts. I fled in the night, leaving my fortress behind as a diversion. Leaving no trace of the escape.

It’s beautiful on the other side.

Past two borders now, almost there. I-10 is the most dangerous because it runs all the way from Florida to California. That means it’s the road with the highest drug trafficking percentage.

Who knew?

It’s beautiful on the other side.

Very much the same in concept, but worlds away in principle. It’s all about how something makes you feel. It’s all about your own experience. Over here, I feel like I’m in love.

But, alas, the feeling is misplaced. Or rather yet, implacable. I guess I’m a little out of luck. I’ve found all this love, but I have no where to put it. I’ve been listening to nothing but songs that make me think of summertime. Summer love is one of the most bittersweet concepts in existence.

You’d understand…

Sweet because it feels eternal, bitter because it’s not. Do I miss you? I don’t think so, but I surely miss the times. We were the epitome of that summer love.

I don’t like to admit it, but it’s true: You weren’t the best, but you were easily my favorite.

In the year of the second time I fell in love with you, I was inexplicably close to learning to keep my mouth shut. And for a moment, even you don’t know what to say.

Such little ironies, to remind me that you’re human, too. You know, there are no less than five good songs that you’ve ruined for me.

And when you roll your eyes like you’ve never felt lonely before.

Freckles of shattered dreams lie upon the kitchen floor. There’s a longing in my eyes. A half smile.

Freckles of broken glass lay scattered under our feet.

They’ll say, “Maybe she went for help…”

And I’ll be long gone, on a brand new endeavor. But this time, there are no distractions to compromise my next relationship.

None of your nosy friends to talk shit about me and make you doubt us. No noisy bars with drunken men who try to convince me that I deserve better.

I love the little ironies. A coincidence of timing might have arranged another meeting, but, what a brilliant twist of fate…

This is the slap in the face on that idle Saturday that completely turns your life around. This is the hint that it’s about time we started a new life with new people. And though with bitter tears I resist, this is enough to turn even me into a believer. A summer love with someone else.  Only, it is spring.  But I digress.

I felt the world light up inside me, and you were there.

In the year of the second time I fell in love with you, you were significantly better at listening to all those feelings you held back. Of comfort, with this ridiculous prose you know so well. Of warmth, from the thick froo-froo coffee and my hand in yours. Of security, the soft kisses melted on your back in the dark.  A familiarity that picks up again, quick as our hair in the wind.

Five minutes into the second time I fell in love with you, my heart was already recalling how to bloom. 

The end, to remember.

Freckles of searing tears lie splattered on the asphalt.

[therealpantsy]

galilei:

When I grow up I want to be… (by Grace Christy)

[therealpantsy]

artofintuition:

(via: artofintuition)

PERFECT. read it.

[therealpantsy]

“I want to grow old without facelifts. I want to have the courage to be loyal to the face I have made.” ― Marilyn Monroe

[therealpantsy]

deserta:

untitled by inaminorchord on Flickr.

[therealpantsy]

[therealpantsy]

Alleys by =Skia

[therealpantsy]

And that cold day when you lost control Shame you left my life so soon You should have told me Hey, but you left me far behind Now maybe I didn’t meant to treat you oh so bad Oh, but I did anyway~Candlebox, Far Behind

[therealpantsy]

[therealpantsy]

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[therealpantsy]

The Breakup Song - The Greg Kihn Band

Let Me In (2010)

Why this film was remade is beyond me. The Swedish version, Let The Right One In, from 2008 is just great. The later American version does it’s best at recreating the mood and pace of the original, but somehow 2 years is not enough breathing room between the two.