tea-you-me

[tea-you-me]

postscript

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Mon Rien Jour

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the question is: what would jane austen do?

Clueless (1995) dir. Amy Heckerling

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swaying while not thinking about anything but the sensation of sound that permeates the body and reverberates outward

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gems of the fictional past 

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ridiculous art-shoot with my bird’s nest hair and my sweet lil parakeet named Lily Briscoe

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Stanley Kubrick and Sue Lyon reviewing the script for Lolita 

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Digi-gift from my pop upon hearing that I'm taking tap. Need me a partner, an elaborate staircase, and a medic on-hand.

#nicholasbrothers #cabcalloway #jumpinjive #stormyweather #1943 #tap

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Hope Sandoval is all Veronica Lake-y

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Pablo Berger's Blancanieves

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My dog is more dog than your dog. Also, my Muskrat Ramble is more Muskrat Ramble than your Muskrat Ramble.

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I wish I was a Mole in the Ground

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dr. squirreley, teach me.

“The very things that made me good at school — a talent for aligning with authority, or for knowing what it wanted; a capacity for self-­estranging self-discipline; an ability to use anxiety as a fuel; an ­overidentification with established codes — were precisely the things that might render me not a writer, not a poet.”

— maureen mclane, my poets (2012), or: how i begin to narcissistically over-identify with my dissertation adviser.

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Francesca Woodman