“I can’t wait to turn 30!” said no one ever. There’s this van culture thing happening. Cute 20-somethings are living in vans. … KEEP READING👀
The only person that will truly show up for you in life is yourself. 6 and 6 is when I show up for myself, sunrise and sunset. I haven’t seen the sunrise in the past month. Why? Because I’ve been on Instagram. After writing Getting to Know Someone, without Getting to Know Someone, something happened… I remembered why I had started The Last Generation. I didn’t want someone to get to know me without getting to know me. If instagram is the new form of a home address, then the thing is, I don’t want anyone knowing where I live.
Will you remember who I am when I’m no longer @ ? I hope not, remember me for me.
I did, it’s true. I took a bat to my Benz.
Can you be homesick for a place or person you’ve never met? I feel homesick all the time.
We dream. We dream about our dream unjob, a dream home (or apartment cause that’s what us TLG’ers are stuck with), that dream car, the dream wedding, the dream instagramable destination, our dream ultimate self (or at least our dream of how we appear on social media), and our dream love, but does one ever dream about their dream friend? Other people are everything and you are what you think not only of yourself, but what you think of others.
Who do you turn to when you get ghosted by that guy you met by the swipe of your finger? Who do you turn to on holidays when your family isn’t so good? Who do you turn to when your heart gets broken or your rent controlled apartment balcony collapses? You turn to your friends.
If you could have a dream friend, who would that be? What would you do together? What would silence feel like when there was no sound? How would this person support that missing piece… you know that thing you’re homesick for even if you’ve never seen it, or been there, or truly felt it.
You can tell a lot about a Ho by her Christmas tree. From black angels up-top to Pottery Barn down below, there are three types of Christmas Ho’s.
Note: Don’t get a Christmas Ho twiest with a Tinder Hoe. Tres diferente!
Disclaimer: If you don’t identify with the Three Ho’s of Christmas, then you simply aren’t a ho. Nice job!👍🏾Maybe…
Other Note: Ho’s can me a combination of Ho’s and men can be Ho’s too.
“Lakshman lakshman lakshman ong ong lakshman. Now shake your hips as fast as you can, imagine gold, and let your kundalini rise! Chant this to get rich in 2017.” preached a white blonde “guru” sitting on a golden throne wearing a white turban.
In the dark, I hypnotically moved my body, my arms swung from side to side and I imaged money pouring down. The freedom to just move compulsively, to reach wide and fast and sensual as I felt, plus it was gonna get rich. I had become a hindu God, Ganesh, with slithering arms and an elephant’s trunk defying gravity. Every time I said the mantra “lakshman,” I could take myself into this mythological cave world filled with mountains of gold and the luck of the Irish.
Boom. Indian God in Ireland. Boom, I’m gonna get rich.
Laksham! 2017 Laksham! 2018 Laksham! Am I rich yet?
New Years Eve, the most lonely night of the year.