Totally forgot to post this, my poor neglected Tumblr pals. My first freelance piece in a year and a half or so - and check that gorgeous illo!
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Extreme tumblr crew commitment to all black in summer @airgordon @jessieflux
April on 24th St ✨🍃
honestly the greatest thing i've ever seen
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Before Sunset (2004)
25, more dead than alive
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That horrible line of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s, ‘‘There are no second acts in American lives,’’ was the notion of somebody who died of alcoholism quite young. Yes, there are second acts, and there are third acts. I live in New York, where there are fifth acts and sixth acts, even.
Source: The New York Times
found my fall look
sunset in ridgewood, november
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I also treated my severe chronic depression like a joke. What I mean by this is that I didn’t take it seriously. I didn’t do anything about it for a very long time, and when someone tried to talk to me about how I was, really, about my depression, a close friend or medical professional, maybe, I would almost always lie or change the subject, in a way I considered to be a ‘joke.’ But it wasn’t a joke, because my behavior was a. a deflection tactic, prima facie, and b. not funny. If a friend asks how you are, and you say, “Fantastic!”, or worse, “You know, fantastic!”, relying on their ability to read between the lines and intuit that by “you know” you mean “You know the nasty hoodie I call my “Darkness Visible” sweatshirt that never leaves my house? Well, I’ve been wearing it for 6 days straight,” you are not being funny.
With acquaintances and strangers it was much worse. “Ha ha!” I’d think. “This person doesn’t know that by ‘Fantastic!’ I mean, ‘I feel like I want to die 7 out of every 10 seconds!’ What a hilarious brilliant use of irony! God, I’m funny!”
Ruth just nails it. (via zanopticon)
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New York Daily News has the report on my youth
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at Times Square, New York City
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jamiatt-deactivated20201227
Another summer in New York. Iced coffee dripping onto your bare thigh on the train; getting drunk on a rooftop with the skyscrapers across the river and planes coasting into JFK overhead. The air thick and humid, skin prickling as you walk into a room with AC.
I went out to dinner with my friend and she told me she hadn’t seen anything on here in a while. I started to apologize and she said “No, I know it’s because you’re happy."
After nearly a decade of documenting my life, I was surprised to find that life ticks on whether or not you record every party or shift in mood. I’ll be back, I’m sure. But for now it feels right to keep some things to myself.
Free movie idea: a ragtag group of disaffected Brooklynites go upstate to hunt the escaped murderers, hoping to use the bounty to rescue a beloved and endangered indie venue.