That night, I had two opposite—but equally intense—impulses. One of them was to get fucking wasted. To get as wasted as I would have in those “singing along to ‘Sally MacLennane’ in the pub” days; to get so plowed all the stuff that Shane’s death brought up for me would sink beneath a stream of whiskey. The other was to not drink, at all; to not only stay sober that night but to never touch a drop of booze again. Because of Shane’s life-long struggles with addiction, because of so many of my beloveds’ struggles with addiction, because of my own struggles with addiction—my own affinity for hurling [myself] toward oblivion in the back of some grim and sticky dive, as Amanda Petrusich put it in her wonderful tribute to Shane. —from "That night, Rain Street went on for miles."

The newest installment of my newsletter is about Shane MacGowan/The Pogues, punk/poetry, addiction, and romanticizing things that are 'bad,' amongst other things. I've been working on this one for a month, and I'm glad it's finally out in the world.

how to romanticize your life - a series - post 4 - romanticizing your routines

who says routines have to be boring? it's time to infuse a little romance and magic into your daily rituals. so without further ado: here are some tips to help you romanticize your routines and turn the ordinary into something extraordinary!

set the mood. create a cozy atmosphere with soft lighting, scented candles, and your favorite playlist in the background.

savor the moment. slow down and take your time with each task. whether it's brewing a cup of tea, taking a shower, or making your bed, savor the sensations and appreciate the simple pleasures of life.

treat yourself to little luxuries that make you feel pampered and special, like using fancy bath products, wearing silky pajamas, or indulging in a decadent dessert.

make your routines meaningful and intentional. set an intention for the day, practice gratitude, or reflect on your goals and aspirations while you go about your tasks.

incorporate elements of nature into your routines, whether it's bringing fresh flowers into your home, taking a walk outside, or enjoying your meals al fresco.

engage all your senses as you go through your routines. savor the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, listen to soothing music, feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, and admire the beauty of your surroundings.

cultivate mindfulness. be fully present in the moment and focus on the task at hand. let go of distractions and worries, and immerse yourself in the here and now.

appreciate the small moments of beauty and joy that arise throughout your day, whether it's a colorful sunrise, a friendly smile, or a delicious meal.

acknowledge and celebrate your achievements, no matter how small. take pride in your efforts and reward yourself for a job well done.

note: not gonna lie having two series' going at once is kinda hard to keep up with. but i'm doin it XD it's finals week so i have so much going on :(

I used to sleep to run away from reality, but now you have started haunting me in my dreams.

[ghost in the walls]: notawisewriter

Wake up let’s get boba and lie down in the grass and use clouds as inkblot tests. Love you.

what if, hypothetically, we start dating, as a joke ofc, and for the new year, obviously as a silly little prank, we kiss and midnight and, JUST AS A JOKE, promise to stay with each other forever no matter what happens.

Romanticizing studying 'cuz otherwise I can't focus.

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I have always noted the small, seemingly mundane moments; could always write with as much detail about a walk to the neighborhood cafe or an afternoon spent baking cookies and dancing to show tunes as I could the first kiss with a new lover or the first time seeing the skyline of a new city. But it hasn’t been until relatively recently that I’ve realized: most of life–maybe even most of the best of life–is in those small, everyday moments. They’re not just things you have to suffer through between the grand adventures. Even though I know that, I do still sometimes get antsy and start thinking my life has become boring because I have fewer of those first-kiss-new-city moments, so I thought writing down my everyday observations would be a good reminder that the beauty is in the small things, the sacred is in the mundane.

[September 24, 2017]

One reason I love poetry is that it has fewer rules than prose. I’m not talking rules about structure and syntax (tho that’s true too, unless you’re a die-hard formalist). What I’m talking about is that in poetry, you can blend the line between fiction and real life a lot more easily. You don’t have to declare that 100% of what you put in the poem really happened (to you, or anyone), nor do you have to say you made it all up. With prose, if you call it a memoir people get mad if they think you’re lying, and if you call it fiction there’s a whole bunch of different rules and you still get annoying people asking you how much of it is autobiographical. Maybe people do that with poems, too, but it seems to happen less often. Facts don’t matter as much as emotional resonance. Also, some things that seem unbelievable in prose are magical in poems.



For example: there is a house I drive past every weekday on the way to drop my older kid off at school. The house is drab, dingy, a little spooky. All the bushes out front are overgrown and gone to seed, or dead. Except right near the curb, there’s this single, beautiful rose. Not a rose bush with one rose on it, no, just one solitary rose growing near the curb. And it is perfect. It is the Platonic ideal of a rose.



You’re already disbelieving me, aren’t you? This sounds like an overwrought metaphor, but if I put it in a poem I could make you believe wholeheartedly in the existence of this rose. I swear it’s real, but bear with me, because it gets more unbelievable—the rose changes color. Some days it’s as ruby red as Marilyn Monroe’s lips. Other days it’s more pink, or more orange. And it glows. It must have its own internal light source, because no matter how gray or dull or rainy the day, the rose is luminous.



(That’s another thing that’s easier in a poem—using words like luminous. They sound a bit cheesy in prose, or in everyday conversation.)



Every time I pass the gloom-house with its glowing rose I have the profound desire to pull my car over and pick it, but I always keep driving. I have read enough fairy tales to know that picking luminous flowers from the gardens of strange houses is never a good idea.

—Jessie Lynn McMains, from “yeah, but did it really happen?” (October 2018)

i am going to have to romanticize school soooo hard this year.

i love sending little snippets of my silly little wips to my friends and watching them lose their minds

*pained laughing* i love feeling like im slipping into this again 🤡

Surround yourself with your favorite things. Let go of the idea of saving them for a special occasion. Light the candle. Wear the dress. Set the table. Life itself is the special occasion.

tired of romanticizing unhealthy or toxic things, but im not in the place to fix it. truly a devastating yet repeating cycle.

i am utilizing unhealthy coping mechanisms because it feels cool