Wait, what.
June 2013
“Woah, that’s Joni Mitchell? Aw… I forgot people got old.”
—Cat
i'm desperate, and I really hope you can help me with the problem I've been having with tumblr, or pass this along to someone who can. a few weeks ago i noticed my dash had gone wonky on me. i couldn't like or reblog photos (the symbols disappeared), and when i tried to make a new post, the text i entered in the body section didn't show up. yesterday i logged out & i can't log back in. the login screen is covered by a photo and i can't access it. please help, i can't find any way back in. thanks
Hey guys, I’ve been getting more and more messages in my inbox regarding Tumblr. Chances are, I can’t help you. But I can direct you to tumblr.com/help. If your question can’t be answered in that doc, you can find an email form. Tumblr support is fucking AMAZING and will usually get in touch with you within two days.
And, as a general catchall, if ANY site is ever wonky for you and not for other people, try accessing it from another browser on your computer.
Play
Of all the moments I forgot last night, why can’t one of them be the moment I was yelling about being obsessed with the Miley Cyrus twerk videos and GIFs on Tumblr? Why must I live with this memory?
Just yelling across tables about it. Oh god.
Tumblr’s Jen Pelka Previews Qui in Austin, Throws Excellent-Sounding Dinner Parties Back in New York →
grubstreet.com
“Avocado is the new pork fat.”
Jen is my work station neighbor and it’s great because she’s great and it’s also great because sometimes she gives me delicious food.
- Me: I'm going to drink this. Actually... I'm not.
- Caragh: because you can't find a cup?
- Me: ...
- Me: yes.
In the moments immediately after I wake up, I am a senseless, emotional baby. Whatever I am feeling will be dumbed down and felt totally, all-encompassingly. Joy, grief, anxiety — whatever.
Last night I fell into a light slumber on the subway. I woke up every three or four stops. From the time I got on the nearly empty train there had been one man sitting across from me, dozing in and out like me. We never spoke. We never made eye contact. He had a cigarette behind his ear and a denim jacket. This dude was nothing to me except something I saw when I opened my eyes to make sure I hadn’t missed my stop. There were the poles, the empty seats, the lights, the dude. He was just there — another object, another mark.
I woke up at the stop before my stop and he was gone. I woke up, I saw he was gone, and my lower lip jut out and for a split second I felt tears forming in my eyes until I was like, “wait, what?”
