Woke up with a bloody fingernail this morning, which is interesting for two reasons:
1) I remember most of last night, we had rum old fashions at La Bodega 47 on Lenox then walked in perfect Fall weather to the local gay dive bar, where we kiki’d until late
2) Jerel literally put me in a cab at the end of the night, told the driver where to take me, and I still fell down somewhere on the way
I turn into the Scarecrow from Oz when I’m drunk for some reason. So annoying.
Am I something?
And the answer comes:
You already are.
You always were.
And you still have time to be.
Anis Mojgani (via elauxe)
Optimistic existentialism. Who knew?
|—||Dorothy Parker is relevant tonight. And every night, really.|
saving for later
This is the scene that convinced me that I am Ilana. Just winking at people and cracking jokes when the people around me act cray.
Only Lovers Left Alive is about two very refined and delicate creatures, called Adam and Eve. They essentially are reclusive, independent, sensitive, sophisticated… emm.. artists, I suppose.
His eyes, his lips, lord have mercy:)
» ginger stubble. Mmm mmm.
I might the only person that doesn’t get this obsession. I’ll give you the eyes, but the man has no lips, I’m sorry.
And that’s a deal-breaker, ladies.
The downside is that it’s impossible to discreetly order a second sake at lunch because they all start yelling and make a big show out of giving it to you.
The sake is dipped out of this giant barrel and also served via wooden paddle. I love the theatrical rituals of robatayaki.