535 5th Ave (btwn 44th & 45th St.), New York, NY 10017
Although this location is in the heart of midtown which is usually a criers arch-nemesis, this particular Duane Reade offers a relatively empty second floor! I cried here yesterday during my lunch break in the vitamins aisle and experienced NO problems at all! It was a wonderful 10-15 minute cry that is so rare to come by these days. Come cry here quick before the word gets out! Highly recommended!
two robots who are girlfriends and one is super high tech and the other is kind of a cheap poorly made model and shes really self conscious compared to her shiny new state of the art girlfriend but the high tech girlfriend is like shhshhshh no baby ur adorable glitches and faulty parts and all
So basically lesbian wall.e?
#is it even 100%certain that wall.e is a guy anyway
tonight is a night where I meant to go to bed two hours ago and for some reason I’m still awake, I haven’t folded my laundry, I’ve been intermittently crying for reasons that are explicable but without instant solutions, I just.
anyway. late night cryptic blogging, I feel, always requires a gift in exchange for your attention, so here. have a song to keep you company. have a song to hold your hand.
This Is How You Spell “HAHAHA I’ve Destroyed The Hopes And The Dreams Of A Generation Of Faux-Romantics” | Los Campesinos!
You walk in from your mother’s balcony, panda-eyed, freezing cold. You bury yourself in my chest to warm. I notice the goosebumps on your arms - millions - and whether it’s because of the numbers of hours spent laid face-down on my bed listening to white noise, or, well, obviously it’s not, I somehow manage to translate them from braille. And the trails on your skin spoke more to me than the reams and reams of half-finished novels you’d leave lying all over the place and every quotation that’d dribble from your mouth like a final, fatal Livejournal entry. “I know. I am wrong I am sorry.”
I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control. I was on the pill until he found them in my purse.
I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem.
Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo.
When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to.
And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe.
I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy.
I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.
“Yes, I do agree that aspects of these women’s sexuality are secret even from themselves, and that wild card, that mystery, is such an exciting part of sex and sexual alchemy. Certain partners tap us in ways that others never can or will. Certain partners reveal us to ourselves.”—The Rumpus Interview With Elissa Wald (via therumpus)
“Empathy comes from the Greek empatheia—em (“into”) and pathos (“feeling”)—a penetration, a kind of travel. It suggests you enter another person’s pain as you’d enter another country, through immigration and customs, border-crossing by way of query: What grows where you are? What are the laws? What animals graze there?”—Leslie Jamison, The Empathy Exams