The scrapbook of a twentysomething multimedia fashion victim. Last Year's Girl, or Lis to her friends, is a journalist, blogger and amateur photographer. Some of these things actually pay her, but mostly she just wants to be liked. She likes social technology, homemade pizza, great-tasting lipgloss, Starbucks cappuccino and rock 'n' roll tales of redemption; makes her home in Glasgow and left her heart in New York City. She doesn't know why she needs a Tumblr account. Keep up with her at pixlet [dot] net.
This would be a neat way to watch photo slideshows with friends!
via notcot
I love how people like LCD Soundystem and Joanna Newsom are putting out these records that simply refuse to be absorbed in a week. Yet people still just write about them in the first week, then they feel afraid to go back and write about how these records sound different months later, like it would seem corny or out-of-touch to listen to a record you like for 6 months and hear something new in it.
When you go,
if you go,
And I should want to die,
there’s nothing I’d be saved by
more than the time
you fell asleep in my arms
in a trust so gentle
I let the darkening room
drink up the evening, till
rest, or the new rain
lightly roused you awake.
I asked if you heard the rain in your dream
and half dreaming still you only said, I love you.
This new part of my life wasn’t a woman who would seem attractive straight-on in a passport photograph… But she was lovely because the round face with the straight dyed-blonde hair, which fell over her forehead and into her eyes, was open. Her face was constantly in motion, and this was the source of her beauty. Her face registered the slightest feeling, concealing little. Sometimes she became childlike and you could see her at eight or seventeen or twenty-five. The different ages of her life seemed to exist simultaneously, as if she could move from age to age according to how she felt. There was no cold maturity about her, thank Christ.