Johanne Brinchmann > Recent Status Updates

“The apartment is where I became myself. I never permitted any lovers to move in. I needed to eat messily while reading, to sometimes not get dressed all day. To work in bed. To wake up in the middle of the night with the edge of something brand-new and reel it in until dawn, then take a mentholated bath like a champ after a big fight. Then sleep and sleep and sleep, unmolested.”

“But the nausea wouldn't go away, and the pressure in my chest was unbearable. I was finding it hard to breathe.
Maybe it's just sickening, how perfect my life is.
I paused. The pressure in my chest lightened a bit. My Online Natalie sensors flickered green, and I pushed dizzyingly forward.
Sometimes it actually makes me nauseous, how satisfyingno, how perfect my life is, and how good I am at living it.”

“This was the strangeness of becoming famous online. I had a million followers, I could access more people in a single moment than any European king of the last thousand years, and then someone could effortlessly wipe my entire kingdom away with a single sentence: I don't have Instagram.”

“The woman in the videos, with her flipbook of smiles? That was Online Natalie, and she was designed to be good at being alive.

And she was right there, wasn't she? Standing, smiling, beckoning. Any day now, I would wrap my fingers around her neck and pull her forward. Let her topple into me.”

“Each sleepless night brought me closer to a full mastery of-myself, I supposed. The performance of me. Of her.”

"I leaned across the table and pressed my hand over His.
Sorry, I mean his. Caleb's."

Caleb was going to slip and fall and hit his head on the corner of the bed, my mother was going to suffer a fatal car accident on the way to the hospital. A trade must take place for this life to enter the world. As my body halved open like a peach, I realized it was me who was losing my life; me who would vanish from the world to make room for this new child.
I will never be Natalie again. I will only ever be Mama.

“You’re leaking. (…) Do something about it.”

Dette må være et vendepunkt der Xaden begynner å bry seg mer om Violet enn han burde

John Wayne: A Love Song: RIP Didion you would have loved wattpad

Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream: interessant historie men hvorfor er den med

“At the time I was dating Sofia Coppola” HUH

«What could have been the most exciting time of our career ended up being very strange.
John was being dark and withdrawn, Flea was under the influence of all kinds of prescribed medications, and I was this high-strung but still-clean weirdo. And Chad was Chad.»

"It's always important to give things away; it creates good energy. If you have a closet full of clothes and try to keep them all your life will get very small.“
It was such an epiphany that someone would want to give me her favorite thing. That stuck with me forever. Every time I'd be thinking, "I have to keep," I'd remember, "No, you gotta give away instead."

«"The Greeting Song." To this day, I hate that song. I hate the lyrics, I hate the vocals.»

Måten dette er en av mine favoritter fra albumet😀

“I was still carrying around that "one foot on a banana peel, one foot in the grave" energy,”

“I went back into a self-imposed abstinence, which equaled what they call a "dry drunk." It's an accident waiting to happen. You're not putting the stuff into you that makes you bonkers, but you're not dealing with any of the shit that's been in there your whole life and makes you want to get high in the first place.”

«EMI was disappointed in our sales, and when they told us that our record hadn't sold, I responded, "Okay. And the problem is what?" I wasn't one of these kids who grew up dreaming of gold records. To me, my life was what was in front of me, and that was going on this tour of America in a blue Chevy van. Everywhere we showed up, there were people, and they cared, and we rocked them out, and we gave it everything.»

Jill if you’re reading this I don’t think it’s possible to like or reply to comments on goodreads, but I am loving this book and I would LOVE recommendations from you - based off this book I just know your taste in books is immaculate. I hope you had a safe trip home!!

Rent was due, and Flea and I had about two hundred bucks each. We had the option of scraping together enough money to pay another month's rent, or going out and buying some high-quality leather jackets, the absolutely de rigueur possession of every self-respecting punk. So we headed to Melrose Avenue, which was becoming a center for cool vintage clothing.

«Yes, Joanna probably did have an encouraging, supportive mother. Yes, her waist is Barbie-degree tiny-Christ, what does that have to do with anything? We're standing here witnessing actual ge-nius, and I'm supposed to focus on the cinch of her belt?»

«Boys are less afraid of being wrong. This was why men got to run the world, even as it became slowly obvious they were terrible at it. But who was molding all these chickenshit daughters?»

“But what inspires this particular feeling of not just loving a song, or any work of art, but longing to have created it yourself? It happens when you identity so intensely with the work it feels somehow wrong-sad, almost-that it didn't come from your own brain. Like if you had arrived at this expression yourself, you would have more effectively metastasized the emotions that made you love the song so much”

“that endless game of trying to be heard without accidentally saying too much of daring to express an emotion that might be subject to change, to a man who just wants you to service his parts.” Holly who hurt you??

«I found it deeply disappointing even as I related to an awful seed of truth inside it: that all my attempts to grow, to find creative independence and purpose, were at least partly in service of becoming more lovable.»

“The song had scratched the exact right awful itch, elevated my sadness to the cinematic, if only briefly. But it landed like a cheap shot, and I let it.”

boka beskrev sæ selv

«I personally like to pretend the phrase "deep cut" has a totally different meaning, one that has nothing to do with anyone else's opinion. How deep does it cut? How close to the bone? How long do you feel it?»

«‘Will this be psychiatry or psychology?'
The psychologist asked: 'What do you think the difference is?
Zara replied: 'You need psychology if you think you're a dolphin. You need psychiatry if you've killed all the dolphins."
The psychologist looked uncomfortable. The next time they met she wasn't wearing her dolphin brooch.» 😭

Har mistet tellingen på hvor mange ganger jeg har lest denne nå

Jeg elsker historier der fortelleren bryter fourth wall, særlig med humor, likt som The Book Thief

“I remember that dinner so well. The way your brain sticks on a scene and replays it over and over again years after, changing the details just slightly, but never the outcome.” Holy wow