I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘Eh? Eh!? Dan only writes once a month these days, and even then it’s usually half-arsed’. Yes, friend, you are right. But I feel a smidgeon bit inspired today, and lo: words. Continue reading
I’m reading Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Every single line in the book is worthy of being typed out and framed in a gallery. It’s absolutely gorgeous and tragic and wonderful. I read the quote below this morning, near the end of the book. This one really struck out at me.
“You know, you’re a little complicated after all.”
“Oh no,” she assured him hastily. “No, I’m not really – I’m just a – I’m just a whole lot of different simple people.”
Previous: Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 9, Riga
I woke up late, hungover, boiling hot, again. I spent a short morning scribbling on maps on my bed but didn’t hang around too long because my dorm was full of old men and the air was thick with the musk of leathery bodies slumbering and overheating and snoring and farting. Continue reading