xo

i spend two minutes burning my fingers on matches, attempting to light the wick of a candle at the bottom of a glass jar, dropping matches in the solid wax until finally it lights.

sundays always have this whimsical element. 

any other day of the week you dread the sound of the 

next snooze button alarm, radio waves screaming in your ear, saying wake up!!! the worlds spinning too fast and you're wasting it away under your blankets; But on sundays you can turn it all off, pull the covers over your head until 2 pm and completely submit yourself to your beautiful, bizarre, unconscious dream world. and if you want spend the rest of the day making love, telephoning old friends free of charge, drinking tea, listening to records or re-reading books off your shelf, there's no hurry or worry to complete a days task.

 sunday's are oh so sweet. 

it's so cold and sad in portland, it seems appropriate to listen to him.