At one point at work today everything kind of stopped and it was revealed that we are all, in fact, daughters of steel, the very last of a dying breed who know what 1984 really means.
Just remember; someone loves everything you hate about yourself.
Walk tall, kick ass…. love music, and never forget you come from a long line of truth seekers, lovers, and warriors.
An older man with long white J. Mascis hair sat next to me on the bus ride home and through the rambling sexiness of Patti Smith’s Land I heard him ask me if this was my natural hair color. I said “more or less,” choosing not to explain that the natural red highlights have seeped through my last dye job due to my new keystone habit of showering every morning upon waking. “Mine used to be the same color when I was young, but that was many years ago. It’s a good color.” I smiled and told him, “Well, I hope mine will look as good as yours when it goes through all of its colors.” He thanked me for talking to him and when he got off at the next stop I wished him well into the cold, cold night.