I met so many beautiful, amazing girls this summer
A lot of whom I would have loved to have dated if I wasn’t leaving for a year. Some of you know who you are, some of you think I’m talking about you, but I guarantee most of you are in the dark. I’m being bombarded with so much information my mind is in chaos and I don’t know what I want. I really don’t.
what makes a good blog? i want to know because i just got unfollowed by a bunch of people. i write and blog things i’m passionate about, and people like it, but because i’m not a mildly atrractive girl who blogs sepia-toned pictures of grungy hippy-wannabe kids smoking weed and drinking and hanging out and having sex, i have no place on this site. it’s not exactly the fact that people unfollowed me that i’m upset, it’s the fact that all these people i follow keep getting followers for blogging the same shit. it’s human nature, supply and demand, what’s trendy and marketable, shit like that. i guess i’ll just have to write something that blows everyone’s fucking mind. a project, how nice.
I also think it’s pretty bad-ass that i’m writing this in a motel room in los angeles.
1. Since the proposed site for the Park51 worship space is 2 blocks away from Ground Zero, why do you keep calling it the “Ground Zero Mosque”?
2. What precisely is an acceptable distance from the former site of the World Trade Center for Muslims to practice their religion? (Terms like “so close” or “in the shadow of” or “steps away” are obviously subjective.)
3. Is there a difference between violent Islamic extremists and mainstream Muslims?
4. If your answer to #3 is “yes,” why is there an objection to Muslims practicing their religion in Lower Manhattan?
5. Since Muslims have been holding religious services at Park51 for over a year, should they be stopped?
6. As Park51 is private property, are you in favor of the government regulating how the space is utilized?
Goddamn! Today she wore the most amazing outfit, teal on the top, thin straps resting lazily on her shoulders. The one on the right kept falling down her arm. Sometimes she’d readjust it, sometimes she wouldn’t. she wore a floral pattern belt, about the size of my bicep, wrapped around her waist. it was made out of cotton, yet you couldn’t tell just by looking at it. it was at least twice the circumference of her waist, and it was tied on the right side in a knot, the slack simply hanging there, occasionally catching a breeze. her skirt was black, tight, and came just above her knees. There wasn’t a blemish on it, or at least none that i could see. she wore no shoes; she never did. her hair was wavy and loose, pushed to one side and hovering in her aura. it was brown. i looked at her blue eyes and then looked away. i don’t think i could stand it anymore. i wished really, really hard that this girl could finally be real.