“I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn’t have a god, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn’t make for an interesting person. I didn’t want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.” —Charles Bukowski (via jalousie)
i'm going to new york for two months in the autumn
please leave tips re: vegetarian ramen, bars likely to be confounded (& convinced) by a not-altogether-legit australian id, thrift stores besides beacon’s closet, and other such helpful things in my inbox.