it was worth all the dexamyl

postcard to leonard bernstein from lauren (“betty”) bacall, on the opening night of west side story, september 1957.

from the library of congress exhibition, west side story: birth of a classic

just bill

something i saw

great new art newsletter from kimberly drew, something i saw. today’s was about maurice berger, the critic, historian, and champion of diversity, who recently passed away. highly recommend.

good things, bad things

good things:

• actually doing my school work (this week)
• friendship!!!!!!!!
• re-committing to LOST (i know, a real turnaround from yesterday, but we watched it right before bed and there’s a LOT of yelling and gun waving and unstraightforward communication and sometimes it’s just too much)
• joseph corella’s youtube channel (musical theater cardio, YES) (tomorrow i’m doing flashdance)

bad things:

• nightmares about corona virus

oh snap

(via poetry foundation and books are magic!)

good things, daily edition

• mississippi records sending out their first newsletter and temporarily opening an online store! !!!!!!! i bought my brother’s birthday presents way early just in case i run out of money or they shut it down before june
• LOST??? against the odds
• having a washer and dryer
• old coffee in a mug next to me
• my origami hat from amos
• sweatpants! sorry, but they’re great

it do me good

romance

“romance” by elaine kahn (via pome)

simply a part of being human

man, sarah hepola writing such sad goodness about aging and wanting:

The fantasy of agelessness is that no grief and loss would come to us. The fantasy of beauty and perfection is: if I only looked that way, no pain would wash up to my shore. I would not be lonely anymore. I would fix the blasted hole inside me. I would finally be happy. But what I have seen in my own life is the more I cling to happiness, the less I have it. The more I need to be beautiful, the more sad and scared and ugly I feel.

It was quiet in the exam room after the nurse left, and I got dressed and tugged on my jean jacket, which reminded me of a jean jacket I’d worn back when I was 14, because I was trying to look older, more sophisticated. I wondered if I would ever learn the trick of being comfortable with whatever I had, or if it was simply a part of being human, or being a woman, or being a woman in Dallas—to want more.

PLEASE