Leota Love ❤️

Leota has become my new go-to brand for work dresses. I was excited to finally snag the black sweetheart wrap with white polka dots. It had been sold out forever.

It came a few days ago. 😍

I’ve also been coveting the houndstooth version which always sells out before I can snag one. About a week ago, during a bout of insomnia, I decided to do a search to see if I could find it being sold elsewhere.

AND I DID! And in the weirdest place: the home shopping network! It gets better: these dresses run about $130 retail, but it was on clearance with HSN for $35. Motherfucking score!

It arrived today, and it’s gorgeous.

My collection is now up to 8. There is one dress not pictured below because it’s being washed. (I wore it yesterday).

I may be a little obsessed, but for good reason: these dresses are flattering, comfortable, and are made of wrinkle free fabric. 🥰

My favorite

By Audre Lorde

This has been my favorite poem since middle school, when we were assigned to find a poem to recite to the class. It still takes my breath away.

I just discovered recently that she also had metastatic breast cancer. She was diagnosed as metastatic six years after her original diagnosis, and died eight years after that. She is quoted as saying: “What I leave behind has a life of its own. I’ve said this about poetry; I’ve said it about children. Well, in a sense I’m saying it about the very artifact of who I have been.”

I love that. I’m going to leave behind one hell of an artifact. ❤️

Last

This poem was written six days before she committed suicide, and is believed to be her last poem.

It gives me chills.

I’ve been a big Sylvia Plath fan for a long time, and there are two songs about her that I love.

First up: Crackle and Drag by Paul Westerberg.

What’s the matter here?

You never repair

The lady’s cursed with insight

You never fix her, with a cold stare

She’s all broken inside

She made a good go, like a weeping willow

Her limbs clung to the ground

She closed the window, and made a pillow

And lay her head down

And as her baby slept, she took a long deep breath

Now they’re zipping her up in a bag

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

And the Cadillac’s waiting to take her away

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

Another head cold, another spirit old

Mmmm, Febuary

Her hair was dirty, and she was 30 in 1963

And while her baby slept she took a long deep breath

And they’re zipping her up in a bag

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

The Cadillac’s waiting to take her away

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

And drag, and drag, and drag

She made a good go, for a weeping willow

She stuffed some rags on the floor

She closed the window

She made a pillow on the oven door

And took a long deep breath

While her baby slept

Now they’re zipping her up in a bag

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

And the Cadillac’s waiting to take her away

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

They’re zipping her up in a bag

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

The Cadillac’s waiting to take her away

Can you hear her blacks crackle and drag

Hear her blacks crackle and drag

❤️❤️❤️

And then there’s Sylvia Plath by Ryan Adams:

I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

Busted tooth and a smile

And cigarette ashes in her drink

The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week

The kind that goes out on her

To give me a reason, for well, I dunno

And maybe she’d take me to France

Or maybe to Spain and she’d ask me to dance

In a mansion on the top of a hill

She’d ash on the carpets

And slip me a pill

Then she’d get pretty loaded on gin

And maybe she’d give me a bath

How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

And she and I would sleep on a boat

And swim in the sea without clothes

With rain falling fast on the sea

While she was swimming away, she’d be winking at me

Telling me it would all be okay

Out on the horizon and fading away

And I’d swim to the boat and I’d laugh

I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath

And maybe she’d take me to France

Or maybe to Spain and she’d ask me to dance

In a mansion on the top of a hill

She’d ash on the carpets

And slip me a pill

Then she’d get pretty loaded on gin

And maybe she’d give me a bath

How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

I wish I had a Sylvia Plath

❤️❤️❤️

Happy Mail!!

It feels like Christmas!

From one of the besties:

Love it all, but that picture cube is ❤️❤️❤️.

And then I got the sweetest card from Liz with these bad ass stickers:

Oh and earlier this week, my other bestie’s mom sent me this homemade mask.

Did she nail it or what?? That’s classic Jenn style. 💕

And now I need to work on my next batch of happy mail to send out. Gotta step up my game, obvi!! ❤️

Nobody writes lyrics like Fiona ❤️

From Ladies

Ruminations on the looming effect
And the parallax view, and the figure
And the form, and the revolving door that keeps
Turning out more and more
Good women like you
Yet another woman, to whom I won’t get through

Ladies, ladies, ladies, ladies
Take it easy, when he leaves me, please be my guest
To whatever I might’ve left
In his kitchen cupboards, in the back of his bathroom cabinets
And oh yes, oh yes, oh yes
There’s a dress in the closet, don’t get rid of it, you’d look good in it
I didn’t fit in it, it was never mine
It belonged to the ex wife of another ex of mine
She left it behind, with a note
One line it said, “I don’t know if I’m coming across, but I’m really trying”
She was very kind

Nobody can replace anybody else
So, it would be a shame to make it a competition
And no love is like any other love
So, it would be insane to make a comparison with you

And meanwhile i’m loving you so much

My current favorite off the new album, with which I am completely obsessed btw, in a way that only women who came to age in a very specific time in the late 90s can be (oh hello, class of 97).

 

I gave you pictures and cards on non-holidays
And it wasn’t because I was bored
I followed you from room to room
With no attention
And it wasn’t because I was bored
It was because I was loving you so much
It’s the only reason I gave my time to you
And that’s it, there’s a kick and you’ve given up
‘Cause you know you won’t like it
When there’s nothing to do
Check out that rack of his
Look at that row of guitar necks
Lined up like eager fillies
Outstretched like legs of Rockettes
They don’t know what they are in for
And they don’t care, but I do
I thought you would wail on me
Like you wail on them
But it was just a coochie-coo-coo
And meanwhile I’m loving you so much
It’s the only reason
I gave my time to you
And that’s it, there’s a kick and you’ve given up
‘Cause you know you won’t like it
When there’s nothing to do
Meanwhile I’m loving you so much
It’s the only reason
That I gave my time to you
And that’s it, there’s a kick and you’ve given up
‘Cause you know you don’t like it
When there’s nothing to do
And I’ve been used so many times
I’ve learned to use myself in kind
I tried to drum
I tried to write
I can’t do Orville, oh well that’s fine
I guess ’cause I know how to spend my time
(I know how to spend my time)
(I know how to spend my time)
(I know how to spend my time)
(I know how to spend my time)
(And meanwhile I’m loving you so much)
(Meanwhile I’m loving you so much)
(Meanwhile I’m loving you so much)
(Meanwhile I’m loving you so much)
(Meanwhile I’m loving you so much)
**I remember feeling this type of pining, semi-obsessive love for my (now) husband way back in the day before we had really hit our stride, and I think that is why I love this song so much. We had a rocky road in the beginning, and sometimes I wasn’t sure if he actually cared about me or not, but I was oh so very much enamored of him. Still am; except now I know he’s just as enamored of me. It’s the best feeling in the world.