life in laramie vi.


I listen, obsessively, to Arcade Fire as I drive around town, looking for features. The Suburbs was a life changing album, sure, but these days, Funeral, with its dystopian imaginings, seems more on point--and when Regine sings "My family tree's // Losing all its leaves", well, my heart constricts. 


I'm getting restless again, but it's a different type than I'm used to. The dreams of Europe are still there, but they take a backseat to the allure of an open road. Of tiny American towns on dead end dirt roads, open plains and dust, sunburns, mountains--the music of Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Pokey La Farge. I wanna be like Jack Kerouac [albeit less drunk], broke and drifting through the cities spread across the US, writing + photographing about everything I see. 

Jack Kerouac didn't have 570 dollars worth of minimum monthly payments for his student loans, though. 


things keep getting better and better and i don't know why, and secretly, deep down inside, i keep waiting for the sourness to come back.

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