On fun-sized advice.


Dear Coquette,

Can you fall out of love with someone just as fast as you fell in love with them?
A helluva lot faster, actually.

Why am I obsessed with my boyfriend’s ex?

Because she used to touch your boyfriend’s penis.

Why would a woman claim to not be a feminist?

Because the…

(Source: thedailyfeed)

posted 3 months ago with 367 notes  thedailyfeed)

On letting it be okay.


Dear Coquette,

I just got out of a crappy four-year relationship. I dated around and it was fun, but I recently found someone I want to settle down with for a little bit.

He has female friends he hangs out with regularly, which I shouldn’t care about, but for some stupid reason, I get…

(Source: thedailyfeed)

posted 3 months ago with 203 notes  thedailyfeed)

On artists and drama queens


Dear Coquette,

We fight all the time. We’re both artists, we both get dark, we battle demons, sometimes they’re each other.

Being artists also means we have a lot of the same friends, so I don’t really have anyone to talk with this about. If I did, it would totally cross some lines and…

Eff that shit

posted 3 months ago with 268 notes  dearcoquette)

Today, in our field, there is so much talent and recognition that we are reaching a saturation point. An artist should no longer strive only for breathtaking craftsmanship; he should, instead, try to help us live better, either by dressing the wounds that are constantly being opened by society, or by offering solutions to get us out of the mess we’re in…But it’s going to be difficult and we have a lot of work to do.
—Jean ‘Moebius’ Giraud
posted 4 months ago with 0 notes 


posted 9 months ago with 0 notes 

My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers
of my palms tell me so
Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish
at the same time. I think

praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think
staying up and waiting
for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this
is exactly what’s happening,

it’s what they write grants about: the chromodynamics
of mournful Whistlers,
the audible sorrow and beta decay of Old Battersea Bridge.
I like the idea of different

theres and elsewheres, an Idaho known for bluegrass,
a Bronx where people talk
like violets smell. Perhaps I am somewhere patient, somehow
kind, perhaps in the nook

of a cousin universe I’ve never defiled or betrayed
anyone. Here I have
two hands and they are vanishing, the hollow of your back
to rest my cheek against,

your voice and little else but my assiduous fear to cherish.
My hands are webbed
like the wind-torn work of a spider, like they squeezed
something in the womb

but couldn’t hang on. One of those other worlds
or a life I felt
passing through mine, or the ocean inside my mother’s belly
she had to scream out.

Here, when I say I never want to be without you,
somewhere else I am saying
I never want to be without you again. And when I touch you
in each of the places we meet,

in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying
and resurrected.
When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever.

—bob hicok, other lives and dimensions and finally a love poem
posted 10 months ago with 0 notes 

onwards, pineapple, onwards!

i am super delighted to find out my grades were more than enough to qualifyi me for internship this semester. thank you Lord. :’) i still can’t believe it, i was starting to really feel like there was some dead end. 

posted 10 months ago with 0 notes 

posted 10 months ago with 1 note 

summer’s end. 

posted 10 months ago with 1 note 

There are three kinds of artists. The first kind are the ones who hurt to do what they do. It hurts to write, there’s pain involved, there’s experience in there, there’s blood. The second kind of artist imitates the ones in pain. The third kind of artist just do what somebody tell them to do, learn the step, wear this wig, shake your ass, watch yourself. The first kind of artist are the ones who are more popular than the amount of money they receive. The second kind of artist is usually the rich ones. Third kind, they get dropped from the label because millions of them walking around… Be true. Be you. Don’t let anybody infiltrate your dream. Make sure you’re saying something when you’re saying something. It’s important to sound like you. To feel like you. To be you.
—Eryka Badu
posted 10 months ago with 1 note