i smelled your jacket and
it was like falling backwards into a hurricane.
were you in the shit?
yeah, i was in the shit.
rushmore.
i want to get my hands dirty i want to taste bad things for lack of lack of trying i want to get little scrapes that sting because i’ve fucking run my hand against a brick wall and fallen into it, laughing, after i’ve drank too much, and i want to wake up in the morning remembering nothing but tasting and stinging and feeling and reading the notes and the texts and the ink-scrawled, wall-scraped hands of the night before like tiny harbingers of the past and the future and the here and the now and the where am i do you know me do i know me and i don’t know but we’re here together and i love you and you’re not saving me but oh my god if not for you i would have no hands to wring.
First Drafts: Danai Gurira
- Tavi Gevinson: How do you move past your old work and forgive yourself for errors and learn from them?
- Danai Gurira: Quite easily, actually. The only thing to do, the best thing to do, is to know you pushed yourself to the end of where you could push yourself at that time. [That way,] you know that you didn’t just put it down and tell, in my case, your director, “Just work with what I wrote.” I’m always open to making something better. Knowing that an idea could come, a realization could come that could fix the problem of a play, and fast: I’m always ready for that to happen. There’s really no time to really condemn myself for the past, as long as I know I did my absolute best with the time I had.
need a secret-secret-secret blog where i can write PULL IT TOGETHER without it sounding like i’m passive aggressively subzub commenting on someone else’s bullshit. because i AM and PULL IT TOGETHER, PEOPLE.
