hookersorcake
hookersorcake:

After three days in the desert I asked the dream owl. It wasn’t a question so much as it was a prayer, so much as it was a song.
How long does our love need to wander, searching for water, until it finds itself an eternal spring. How lonely do we have to get before we realize we’ve never been alone?
It was high noon when the owl answered me in the middle of the casino. In front of everyone its black shadow glittered upon me, tore me open and I sang an aria of bloody grief. The slot machines cried out in unison and everybody won, even the losers. Especially the losers. After all, they were the only ones who knew how to win.

hookersorcake:

After three days in the desert I asked the dream owl. It wasn’t a question so much as it was a prayer, so much as it was a song.

How long does our love need to wander, searching for water, until it finds itself an eternal spring. How lonely do we have to get before we realize we’ve never been alone?

It was high noon when the owl answered me in the middle of the casino. In front of everyone its black shadow glittered upon me, tore me open and I sang an aria of bloody grief. The slot machines cried out in unison and everybody won, even the losers. Especially the losers. After all, they were the only ones who knew how to win.

theparisreview
theparisreview:

In the meantime there are common flickerson the lawn, words to whittle, friends to kid.In the meantime minds pose and puteach other on with drastic poise.And though the sun is lustrouson the snow, minds want to switch onevery watt inside. They want to rest their everyreason against the gusts of blank reposewithin their sets and make their blizard babies.
—Alice Fulton, from “Silencer.”Photography: Tom Hoying.

theparisreview:

In the meantime there are common flickers
on the lawn, words to whittle, friends to kid.
In the meantime minds pose and put
each other on with drastic poise.
And though the sun is lustrous
on the snow, minds want to switch on
every watt inside. They want to rest their every
reason against the gusts of blank repose
within their sets and make their blizard babies.

Alice Fulton, from “Silencer.”
Photography: Tom Hoying.

clintirwin

clintirwin:

The modern hipster is just a suburban yuppie in disguise. All bourgeois taste is based on the idea that one is in touch with regular folks, say with Pabst and bacon, but also more knowledgeable and selective in terms of refinement and nutrition, so kimchi and kombucha. It is lower class cultural appropriation reinvented as a “serious” palate. Pickles can’t be pickles, they have to be artisinal and flavored in some way that feels sophisticated, like cayenne and habanero. Donuts can’t be donuts, they must reflect individual rarefied tastes, such as matcha green tea. The whole thing is designed to show off that you only consume the “best” and most “natural” foods, while still retaining the common touch. Suburban yuppies are ostentatious about their food pretensions, hipsters attempt to cover theirs with tattoos, spectacles “irony” and, above all “quirkiness.”

daughterofsmokeandbonetrilogy

daughterofsmokeandbonetrilogy:

This is the first line you’ll read in Daughter of Smoke & Boneand you won’t stop until you get to the last.

From National Book Award Finalist Laini Taylor comes the New York Times bestselling trilogy about forbidden love, an ancient and epic battle, and hope for a world remade. 

Entertainment Weekly says it’s “thrillingly fresh and new,” and Wired calls it “the next Next Big Thing”, but start reading and see for yourself: Amazon | B&N | Indiebound

I’m all of a suddenly interested in YA rom lit.