Music to play while you're at work

Or the row of vacant cottages

a million miles away

Landing on a runway in Chicago

I've been a kid of the suburbs all my life (take that as you will), and while I know many people who passionately hate the suburbs (and their reasons are valid), I've never wanted to live anywhere else. People tell me they love the city, they want to live in the city and become one with the city, but that's never a pull I've felt. For me, the city is a fun place for a night out, a special occasion, a visit. I love San Francisco. I love LA. I even love Sacramento (even though it's the worst city ever), but I've never wanted to live in any of these places. While there's a certain magic and charm about city life, it isn't the kind of life I've ever wanted.

That said, I fucking love Chicago. If I ever end up moving away from California and into a smelly, crowded, wonderful city, it will be Chicago. I don't know what it is about this city that gets me, but I spent the whole weekend simultaneously loving everything about Chicago and thinking, Why the hell would anyone want to live in a place like this? That sounds harsh, but I think that those feelings of undying love for the place that you call home can only come from this push-pull/love-hate relationship that consumes and DEFINES everything you are.

I've always kind of envied those people who've lived in one place their entire lives because they all seem to be just as hopelessly in love with their hometown as much as they hate everything about it. I don't feel that way about any place in the world. I could feel that way about someplace, but I think I need to find it first.

In conclusion, this weekend was amazing. I ♥ Chicago.

Which came first, the music or the misery?

BRB, gone to Chicago.

Sending postcards from a plane crash

Oh, how I wish you wouldn't worry so. There's hope in every breath. But when fear infects the bones, I'm told, the heart is always next.

[via pleasefindthis]

the bus slows as it crests the hill. we coast all the way down into the city. smudging the tips of our noses against the glass, we can see thunderheads rolling in over the tops of the skyscrapers, wisping through power lines. we want to stick our fingers outside to catch the static cling, but the bus windows are fused shut, containing us.

rolling into the city is like ducking into a new world where the sky is gray, not blue, and the power lines are at loose ends, throwing sparks all over the city. "we'll get electrocuted," you say, spreading your fingers out against the window. your hand looks like a glowing thing, an alien thing, and the lightning flashes are electric wires spiraling out of your fingertips. "electrified," you say.

i put my fingers
in the spaces between your fingers because
it's easier to touch that way.