Abby Robitaille reevaluates brevity.
I live a flannel-clad, bed-headed, whiskey-drunk, kickflip-bruised twenty-something sort of existence in Burlington, Vermont. Sometimes I write about it.
All content not otherwise credited is copyright Abby Robitaille 2011.
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GET AT ME
SHIT I DIG
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Bulletin: Seattle, WA, USA
There’s a lot to say about this new place. I’ll hit you with the crux: AWESOME. I get my daily exercise walking four...
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@DEALBREAKERblog: Blowing your mind forever.
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“Nobody is going to give you a thing. You have to give it yourself. You have to tell us what you have to say.”— I could quote Sugar every Thursday but...
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I'm always afraid I'll never write again
I once had a story accepted for publication at The Quarterly, a literary magazine edited by Gordon Lish....
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Sit On The Ground and Eat Potatoes
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Following rules.
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(via crestsofwaves)
york beach for brothers 17th birthday: swimming & mimmos for dinner.
Abby Robitaille, internet quitter.
Sorry my lovely friends, I fell in love and got really distracted.
A comeback is in order, but my computer is missing about four crucial keys and I also have plans to get drunk and go to some garage sales this weekend, so it might not be until Monday.
Smooches!
“We’re still young and we have to do cool things while we still can. Like rollerblade.”
Temporary mantra:
No boyfriends, no benzos, no blow.
Ginette LaPalme.
I’m deep in the throes of a super gnar mid-twenties existential crisis. My head feels all smeared and abstract expressionist, as if it got completely thrashed while drunkenly skating down College Street last night.
But let me tell you, tonight I am all about these painted sticks.
