My process

A recipe for success?

  1. Nap
  2. Have an existential crisis along the lines of “I will never create work again!”
  3. Frantically begin planning all of the projects over several notebooks, spreadsheets, text conversations, and chewed fingernails
  4. Plan to move away somewhere far where no one knows you and get a real job in a post office or cafe
  5. Make tea and soberly look out the window to see which idea comes to mind first, boil more water and refine
  6. Do the work, in small steps, that don’t require too much fore thought, but that make logical sense, until it starts to become too exciting to put down
  7. Go on a bunch of dates to try to overcome your nervous energy by channeling it into a bunch of new possibilities instead of focusing on the task at hand
  8. The thing is starting to look more like a thing! That you can tell people about! Time to invite in collaborators! Probably people you went on dates with in step 7
  9. Become morbidly depressed over the state of the world, the state of the work, and the sorry state of yourself. Decide to quit everything and go back to step 4
  10. Breathe, do some yoga, maybe eat a food, read a book by an author you adore
  11. Look at the thing you have created, look for what is missing, fill it with your love & excitement to share with the people you care about
  12. Share it in one wild beautiful attempt to transcend all the other drudgery and escape the inevitability that you will wind up returning to step 1 in a matter of hours

Rinse and repeat.

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Morose Texts from Last Night the Sequel

I need help finding the broken pieces of myself can you come over?

I locked myself out of my heart again, slept in the cold </3

New tinder profile: seeking someone to watch Netflix and hold me while I cry DTF

I’m loosing my heart to the sea

what’s good for the goose isnt’ always good for the gander

pretty sure soul mates are made up of the pieces of yourself you shed along the way

I am the glue keeping the cracks together 

First date: brazenly drunk. Second date: painfully shy. Third date: soul mates. Stops texting you back. Rinse & repeat

I only have two settings and both of them are tongue tied

the greatest romance is with my own broken heart

My type is the sad lonely artist types who can’t love me back

New tinder profile: seeking a poet who doesn’t slobber when he makes love

 the kind of girl with a lover for each of her neurosis 

can’t sleep my feelings will get me, you?

My hobbies include dwelling on the past and using it to sabotage my future 

Googled my symptoms came up with malignant tumor of fear of rejection and self hatred

I just called to say I’m over you is code for when are you coming back

I’m concerned about you is code for the amount of details you share about your breakdowns on the internet makes me uncomfortable with my own secrets

It burns me up to feel this way about your icy shoulder

New tinder profile: if I knew how to accept the loneliness I wouldn’t be on here

I’m not worried he will hit me again I’m worried I won’t be able to feel love if he doesn’t

Failure is the only option that feels right

I can’t hold your hand bcz I’m too busy holding my heart together 

I built my home in the scary place so I wouldn’t have to run as far to chase my demons

It takes a lot of courage to drown your sorrows like puppies

text u 😭😢😪 bcz I’m dead inside and can’t shed real tears

Maybe only broken ppl know how to love my broken pieces

Nightmares about you holding her hand again

heart starting to dissolve into sweet nothings YOLO

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Morose texts from last night

Everyone dies; truth is lived in the moment.

Love is what happens while you are waiting around to die.

I want to love everyone but just for a little bit. Your five minutes are up.

Good and bad are mute points; it’s all the same shade of bleak on the greyscale.

I’ve had enough hair of the dog this week; I would be better off moving to China and eating the whole god damn thing.

Feel sorry for the children; they all grow up to be fuck ups in some bodies eyes. (Maybe yours?)

When I return I’m never going back.

Make more art. Burn the shitty stuff to stay warm. Repeat until masterpiece achieved.

Ain’t nobody got time to fix their make up for their mug shot.

Run the risk of trying too hard rather than dying bored. It’s only a failure in retrospect.

I write my memoirs starting at the end; one day I will catch up with where this story is going.

Tragedy gives weight to the most frivolous of moments. Laughter brings ease to the most dire of circumstances. Everything in excess.

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