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Inelegantly, and without my consent, time passed.

Miranda July

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Miranda July
Age: 50
Born: 1974
Born: February 15
Actor
Artist
Film Actor
Film Director
Musician
Screenwriter
Writer
Barre
Vermont
Miranda J. Grossinger
Consent
Passed
Without
Time

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We really wanted to know all the unknowable things about each other and how we were the same and how we were different, if we even were, maybe nobody is.
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And why had Deb's last boyfriend dumped her? I dumped him. Maybe you didn't French-kiss him enough. I promise you that wasn't it. Tell me how many times a day you kissed, and I'll say if it was enough. Four hundred. Not enough.
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… it wasn’t pretend, I wasn’t in a fairytale or a fable. I shut my eyes and absorbed the silent whoomp that always accompanies this revelation. It’s the sound of the real world, gigantic and impossible, replacing the smaller version of reality that I wear like a bonnet, clutched tightly under my chin.
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I had a joint once and I didn't feel right for a whole year
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The job of the artist is to point at things.
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Well,I have a theory that men don't actually cry less than women,they just do it differently. Since we never saw our fathers cry,we are forced to invent our own unique method.
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For a split second I felt as though she was nobody special in the larger scheme of my life. She was just some girl who had tied me to her leg to help her sink when she jumped off the bridge. Then I blinked and was in love with her again.
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If there were a map of the solar system, but instead of stars it showed people and their degrees of separation, my star would be the one you had to travel the most light-years from to get to his. You would die getting to him.
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We don't really believe in mowing the lawn we do it only to avoid unnecessary engagement with the neighbors.
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He was worried she would not let him love her with the stain. He had already decided long ago, twenty or thirty minutes ago, that the stain was fine. He had only seen it for a moment, but he was already used to it. It was good. It somehow allowed them to have more.
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I've always been terrified of getting used to something that is actually killing me-a relationship or a job. But in those cases, you can count on a friend to say something. The Internet is different, because all my friends are in the same relationship.
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We humans are here because nothing can be perfect. There always have to be some living things that are unsatisfied, itchy, trying too hard. If it was all just animals and rocks and lettuce, the gods wouldn't feel like they had enough to do.
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They wordlessly excused each other for not loving each other as much as they had planned to. There were empty rooms in the house where they had meant to put their love, and they worked together to fill these rooms with midcentury modern furniture. (Birthmark).
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We were always getting away with something, which implied that someone was always watching us, which meant that we were not alone in this world.
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He seemed to be waiting for me to move forward. Weren't we all.
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I looked out the window for other passengers in love with their drivers, but we were well disguised, we pretended boredom and prayed for traffic.
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I wondered if i would spend the rest of my life inventing complicated ways to depress myself.
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I didn't have any vices before the Internet. There are a lot of cracks in the day, moments where you don't know what to do next, so you have a little hole where you look at your phone. You want something that will mean you're not alone in that moment.
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He breathed out the bitter air that makes women doubt everything, and I breathed it in, as I had always done. I expelled my dust, the powder of everything I had destroyed with doubt, and he pulled it into his lungs.
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I can guarantee you nothing I do is a conscious attempt to inject something in.
Miranda July