sleep&leather&NOTbondage

I haven't slept in over a day now. Approaching two. I can't sleep. I'm exhausted, and I'm drained, and my brain is crackling with the exertion of working overtime but I have absolutely no luck. I try to sleep, I put on my playlist (which is the only thing getting me to bed nowadays when I do sleep) and I wait. I close my eyes and drift off but I'm never warm enough, never cool enough, never secure enough, always too anxious isolated on a hard twin xl mattress. I lay there trying to cuddle into my copious amounts of blankets and pillows, but none of it works: I can not sleep.

A perk is I've never seen the sunrise as much as I have recently, this past month especially. I can't wait for warmer weather so when insomnia and solitary isolation kick in I can watch the sun rise over the great lawn.

I'm optimistic.
(ish)

side note: today I tried on a pair of skinny faux leather pants from h&m and fell in love. They will be purchased within the next couple of weeks. Also a forest acid wash v-neck from american apparel is top on the list.

I am in LOVE with Julien Macdonald's fall 09 collection
Erdem is also stunning
PHI kicked ass at NYC fashion week
the usual wow-ers did their thang (Marc Jacobs was on point as usual, etc, etc& so on&henceforth)

www.style.com is a visual fashion dictionary/online newspaper.


"All alone!
Whether you like it or not,
alone is something you'll
be quite a lot"
-Dr. Seuss

"If it is to come, she said,
sleep must take me unawares
while I am laughing or dancing
so that I do not know that brutal place
where I lie down with cattle prods,
the hole in my cheek open."
-Briar Rose, Anne Sexton

old poem that always makes sense-
Sleeping Beauty's Confession: The Truth About Her Slumber
When he left she didn't have a broken heart
No gorging ice cream sorrows
No room demolishing anger.
Her heart wasn't broken,
it was crushed, powder-thin
blown away like ashes.
At night she cried a eulogy,
hoping the tears would resurrect her dead heart.

She was in a spell of no feeling,
Sleeping Beauty, but her rescuer was the needle.
She felt nothing till late sullen midnight--
then repugnant despair came
(a petrifying tempest)
Overwhelmed,
she cried in morbid mourning
as she realized there is no grief as great as that of a dead heart.