Tomato-rich is probably the best kind of rich to be, honestly.

Tomato-rich is probably the best kind of rich to be, honestly.

Poets don’t drive. Never trust a poet who can drive. Never trust a poet at the wheel. If he can drive, distrust the poems.

Martin Amis, from The Information (via litafficionado

What a wonderful excuse for being an awful driver.

(via kabillieu)

i love driving, and i’m really good at it.

i’m like these guys, basically:

the main reason i’m good at driving is that ron howard’s voice provides me with driving directions, gps-style.

although, i’m also pretty good at creating mental maps of towns and using my mental map to envision and realize shortcuts, so basically, i’m also ellen page in inception:

or tank from the matrix:

but mostly it’s like this:

in conclusion, that is why i am a good driver.

(via dnlbly)

I am a very earnest person, to a fault really, so my first response is to always play things straight. I have a sense of humor, I just don’t always think to use it. Anyway, Dan’s response is the greatest.

(via dnlbly)

unforgettabledetritus:


A few years ago, after reading in a book that people who feel a strong sense of community have been proven to lead longer and happier lives, Bamford started working to overcome her natural shyness and fear of interaction by saying hello to her neighbors in Eagle Rock, a diverse and partly gentrified area on the northeastern edge of Los Angeles. She bought a park bench and had it installed on the median strip in front of her house. She then spray-stenciled the words “Have a Seat!” on the sidewalk in front of it. To her delight, the bench is often occupied. “It’s like a bird feeder for humans,” she says.

—The Weird, Scary, and Ingenious Brain of Maria Bamford

I cannot stress enough what a great profile this is. Just do the work, indeed.

unforgettabledetritus:

A few years ago, after reading in a book that people who feel a strong sense of community have been proven to lead longer and happier lives, Bamford started working to overcome her natural shyness and fear of interaction by saying hello to her neighbors in Eagle Rock, a diverse and partly gentrified area on the northeastern edge of Los Angeles. She bought a park bench and had it installed on the median strip in front of her house. She then spray-stenciled the words “Have a Seat!” on the sidewalk in front of it. To her delight, the bench is often occupied. “It’s like a bird feeder for humans,” she says.

The Weird, Scary, and Ingenious Brain of Maria Bamford

I cannot stress enough what a great profile this is. Just do the work, indeed.

Poets don’t drive. Never trust a poet who can drive. Never trust a poet at the wheel. If he can drive, distrust the poems.

Martin Amis, from The Information (via litafficionado

What a wonderful excuse for being an awful driver.

(via nogreatillusion)

Speaking of feeeelings, I just ordered this album on vinyl. I’d like to have more of the Saddle Creek music I listened to from 2006-2010 or so on records because the shows I went to were just so darn fun. Omaha was pretty much just dark bars and too much vodka and talking shit with my friends, but that was a really good time. This post is my equivalent of reminiscing about the old college days…except I was well into my 20’s and not in college anymore (ok I was in grad school).

(Source: Spotify)

Not Mary Tyler Moore

I used to write about my neuroses on tumblr a lot more than I do now, which is almost never. It’s not that I’m less neurotic. Unfortunately that has not changed. It’s more that I think I’ve exhausted this space’s capacity for my complaints. No1curr and all that. Anyway, today I mailed some stuff and made some phone calls—ordinary tasks that seemed insurmountable before I did them because for some reason beyond my comprehension basic communication is hard for me. I’m adding points to the “you are a barely functional adult who is lukewarmly considerate some of the time” column and calling it good. I guess this is what it looks like to be 32 and just barely making it.

I don’t think it’s a secret that I’ve been geeking out over local natural landscapes for a while. I have a lot of theories about why this is (forthcoming in a long read think piece lol (nb4r actually probably)) but for now I’ll just say that where we’re stationed is easily the most beautiful place I’ve ever lived, and I’ve lived in a lot of beautiful places. The poignancy of knowing we’ll have to move soon—away from my house on the bay, away from my family, the jellyfish, the ospreys who hang out on our dock and leave rotting fish looped over the pilings, away from the wild morning glories in the lagoon, away from the pale pink saltmarsh mallows, away from the South in general—some days it kills me a little, knowing that I can love a place that doesn’t get to be mine. Why wouldn’t I want to name as many flowers and trees and grasses as I can? At least if I know their names I can take them with me somehow. Anyway I keep promising myself I won’t buy any more books but I’m a liar.

The other day Dominic and I found ourselves on a roadtrip without Dax, who was visiting his grandparents again, and we listened to A LOT of Hall and Oates. #summeroffalsettoandtears

(Source: Spotify)

If you want to feel better, you should put this song on in a dark car at top volume and play the CRAP out of some air drums. Summer of bongos via Phil Collins. Let’s get earnest.

(Source: Spotify)

Look, I know it’s weird to brag constantly about my hair. And mostly it’s all 3rd day post-washing sweaty mess in a ponytail. But sometimes it looks like this. For me, being this blonde comes with nonexistent brows and lashes and approximately a million moles and freckles that Dax has started pointing to and calling booboos, so like I’m never going to be the mayor of sexy-town, but I can still be smug about being a 30-something who’s never dyed her hair because even though it’s getting darker, on some days it still looks like this. #foreverhairvain

Look, I know it’s weird to brag constantly about my hair. And mostly it’s all 3rd day post-washing sweaty mess in a ponytail. But sometimes it looks like this. For me, being this blonde comes with nonexistent brows and lashes and approximately a million moles and freckles that Dax has started pointing to and calling booboos, so like I’m never going to be the mayor of sexy-town, but I can still be smug about being a 30-something who’s never dyed her hair because even though it’s getting darker, on some days it still looks like this. #foreverhairvain

I ate two thirds of my sandwich before it occurred to me to take a photo. It was pretty good—not as good as that almost life-changing sandwich in Birmingham, but we’re not BBQ professionals around here, just enthusiastic amateurs. Next time I will pile more pickled red onions on top and use even more sauce. Dominic threw some ribs on at the same time as the chicken, and sauced them with some of the homemade red BBQ sauce we usually have on-hand, and those were good too. #summerofbbq

I ate two thirds of my sandwich before it occurred to me to take a photo. It was pretty good—not as good as that almost life-changing sandwich in Birmingham, but we’re not BBQ professionals around here, just enthusiastic amateurs. Next time I will pile more pickled red onions on top and use even more sauce. Dominic threw some ribs on at the same time as the chicken, and sauced them with some of the homemade red BBQ sauce we usually have on-hand, and those were good too. #summerofbbq

PSA

Liz—White sauce is a mayonnaise based sauce exclusive to north Alabama. It’s got so much mayo you don’t even want to think about it, lemon juice, vinegar, pepper pepper pepper, and sugar in it. I think you can serve it either warm or cold, and it tastes really good on smoked or barbecued chicken.

A week and a half ago, when I was in Birmingham with my sister to say goodbye to my brother, I had a smoked pulled chicken sandwich with white barbecue sauce that almost changed my life. So Dominic’s smoking a chicken now and I just made some white barbecue sauce for the first time, and let me tell you it is everything wrong with the South in one bowl. Disgusting but delicious.

Will update when we put it all together for lunch.

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