VintageIsabel

It was 1:30 in the morning,  and I was officially no longer any kind of a minor. Thoughts along this line drifted feebly through my sleepy mind as I absently typed d-e-v into the url bar, ready to turn in for the night. I seemed to have an absurd amount of messages... *click* My first thoughts on reading what lay therein were something like what-no-I-couldn't-possibly-have-gotten-a-DD-this-must-be-a-mistake, right, a mistake. I simply could not believe my eyes!!! But there it was: http://fav.me/d38ikr6 That a piece of my poetry had garnered such attention was, and still is, astounding. I wanted to thank everyone that made that possi

My apartment, a small thing, long and low and lean -third-story box close to the treetops and the squirrels, close to the crows, who stare through the windows on old oak branches and tap at the sky-light just in case my alarm didn’t go off at six am, giving me quick hitchcock chills as I stumble about for a bra, a pair of jeans- My apartment, whose toilet chatters long into the night to the plaintively dripping shower, whose refrigerator leaks in an unpredictable but inevitable fashion, karma for illicit midnight snackers in dry socks, whose doors on long days clutch at their locks the more one rattles at their handles in desperat

Bonjour dA! I hope everyone is surviving the last dregs of winter in the northern hemisphere, I have been drinking in the first flowers here in Northern-ish California in a spring-parched fervor. My trip to Trader Joe's today was laden with long and hungry looks at the beautiful pink potted tulips and butter-yellow daffodils (my own hyacinth bulb having just died after some neglect on the windowsill of my apartment), but being a strapped-for-cash college student I tearfully surrendered them to the next (and hopefully less neglectful) flower-thirsty customer. I have been reading David Lebovitz's "The Sweet Life in Paris", hence the bonjour y