She goes out to hang the windchimein her nightie and her work boots.It’s six-thirty in the morningand she’s standing on the plastic ice chesttiptoe to reach the crossbeam of the porch,windchime in her left hand,hammer in her right, the nailgripped tight between her teethbut nothing happens next becauseshe’s trying to figure outhow to switch #1 with #3.She must have been standing in the kitchen,coffee in her hand, asleep,when she heard it—the wind blowingthrough the sound the windchimewasn’t makingbecause it wasn’t there.No one, including me, especially anymore believestill death do us part,but I can see what I would miss in leaving—the way her ankles go into the work bootsas she stands upon the ice chest;the problem scrunched into her forehead;the little kissable mouthwith the nail in it.
I just reread The Great Gatsby for the umpteenth time, and I’ll tell you what, old sport, I am still hopelessly in love with the Great Gatsby.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (via narcotic)
I am beyond excited to see this movie.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower official movie poster
F. Scott Fitzgerald in drag for the Princeton Triangle Club, 1915-1916. And because he was such a free bitch, he was voted most beautiful Show Girl for the play “The Evil Eye” which he wrote the lyrics for and starred in.