Samantha

“Because I just don't really care about what the liquid in my glass says about me anymore. I'd like to tell you it's because sobriety cured my need for specialness. I'd like to tell you I invented the stapler and can start fires with my mind. But no.”
― Kristi Coulter, Nothing Good Can Come from This

“Last year I abstained
this year I devour

without guilt
which is also an art”
― Margaret Atwood, You are Happy

“I tell you this not as aimless revelation but because I want you to know, as you read me, precisely who I am and where I am and what is on my mind. I want you to understand exactly what you are getting: you are getting a woman who for some time now has felt radically separated from most of the ideas that seem to interest people. You are getting a woman who somewhere along the line misplaced whatever slight faith she ever had in the social contract, in the meliorative principle, in the whole grand pattern of human endeavor. Quite often during the past several years I have felt myself a sleepwalker, moving through the world unconscious of the moment’s high issues, oblivious to its data, alert only to the stuff of bad dreams, the children burning in the locked car in the supermarket parking lot, the bike boys stripping down stolen cars on the captive cripple’s ranch, the freeway sniper who feels “real bad” about picking off the family of five, the hustlers, the insane, the cunning Okie faces that turn up in military investigations, the sullen lurkers in doorways, the lost children, all the ignorant armies jostling in the night. Acquaintances read The New York Times, and try to tell me the news of the world. I listen to call-in shows.”
― Joan Didion, The White Album

“A postcard and I'm pining for New England. . .”
― Amy Ballard, Landlocked