20.10.15

Hello there. Is there anybody out there worth talking to anymore? I'm in dire need of a good conversation with someone that wants to be heard.

If you're out there, and your reading this.... I'm listening.

Love,
Nancy

27.1.15

How You Know written by Talia Ralph



“You want to travel with them. You want to see what they’re like going through airport security, on planes, in strange countries. You want to meet their families and charm them to pieces. You want to nestle into their childhood beds and look around in the dark at all their old posters. You want to see all the embarrassing photos of them with braces and socks pulled up mid-calf. You want to hear all the stories about their drunken nights under the bleachers and their best friend’s jokes. You want to read all their journals, see how they took notes in high school. Did they use pen or pencil? What color highlighter? You want to work with them, just to see them work. You want to go out with them. You want to make out with them in the bathroom. You always want to touch them; you want them to always want to touch you.
You find reasons to disentangle yourself from them; it’s only going to hurt later, you can tell already. You stay up way past your bedtime for them. You look at the clock and know their schedule. You neglect other people and other things, and beat yourself up about it. But it’s like they have a hold of your hands and your voice, and you don’t mind. It’s like you’re trapped in an hourglass; you know your lungs might fill with sand, but there’s something sensual and comforting about the grains sliding down glass walls and pooling around your ankles, your knees, your waist.
You like things about their appearance that the rest of the world may cringe at and call strange, less than perfect. Their broken, reshaped noses; their little teeth or the gaps in between them; the way they pull their hair; their narrow hips; their wide shoulders; the depth of their pores. You can laugh when funny things happen in bed. You usually want to be in bed with them.
You think they’re smarter, better, friendlier, fitter, happier, more productive than you are. You strive to be as much as they are, as good as they are. You try to cheat and figure out what it is they’re going to teach you, if they’re going to fall from grace, if you’re going to play a part for them that you never thought you’d play before. You try and pull patterns and threads of meaning from the conversation or the way they looked at you the first time you met; what they did, what they offered. An apple stolen from the bar. Notes from a guitar. Pitchers of free beer. Pieces of bark with writing on them.
You cherish snippets of them; paste them up in your memories like old faded scrapbooks clutched to chests for generations. Their skin glows black and white in your head. They star in the little short films of your life that sneak up on you when you’re not looking. Like the walk to the South End for dinner on a quiet corner. The feel of the sun beating down on you both at an outdoor concert. The way they ordered wine on your first date. The slow swing of a hammock near a lake. The back seat of their car.
You can see yourself with them in the future you can’t quite see. You build apartments outfitted with all the right kitchen supplies and the perfect bed with two nightstands, each piled with books and magazines. You wait for them patiently while they chase their dreams; they wait for you patiently as you chase yours. You sit in bed eating dinner late at night, drinking tea and wine and whiskey as you tell each other all about the chasing. You create adopted dogs and cats; you have awkward conversations about money; you put up with each other’s crap. You see what they look like standing at the end of a candle-lit aisle in your grassy front yard and wonder if you’ll make it to the other end to meet them or if they’ll just end up in the scrapbook clutched to your chest or flickering on the screen in your brain.”
 —How You Know - Talia Ralph (via lxxxv
I keep blogs and write in my journals because it makes me feel safe.
     Writing. It comes so natural to me. 

23.5.13

“There’s a brief moment when you first wake up, where you have no memories. A blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness.” —Anna Sophia Robb, The Carrie Diaries

4.10.12

A different perspective

Sometimes we need to look at things in a different perspective. A picture alone could tell millions of stories, imagine if we started to think about every little detail in a photography, the colors, the people in them, their background culture, their personal life, what makes them smile and what makes them cry, the asphalt on the ground, who put it there and where are they coming from. Life could be ugly at times, but even in that there's beauty.





































20.5.12

It's been a while since I've visited. I open up these old blogs of mine, filled with spider-webs and bats... Just the way I left them.
I'll be writing in here more often. I miss having a place of my own to unravel.

Hello again old me. I've missed you. I hope you haven't forgotten me. You are me, and I am you. We'll be seeing a lot more of each other... I promise.

-Nancy

Slap of truth


A little bit of me falls in love with almost every person I meet. 
I like being read to and having someone to color on Denny’s napkins with me from time to time at 3am. I’m a complete mess most of the time, but I promise I’m a lovely person.
I’m constantly worried about how I’m going to pay bills every month yet I spend all my cash on parking meters and strawberries. I cry way too often and apologize when someone bumps into me. I laugh way too hard when someone has the hiccups and smile when I’m uncomfortable. I love peaches and mangos.
I like rude people, loud noises, and the smell of gasoline stations.
Some of the best decisions I’ve made were the ones I did in total disregard of the consequences.
I wake up to eyeliner and lipstick marks on my pillow because I’m too lazy to take off my makeup at night. I sometimes leave a post-it on someones car telling them to have a good day when I’m having the worst.
Love is such a nice word. It makes me feel happy :) the word “supposedly” has a nice ring to it too, I feel as if I’m using my whole mouth just saying it.
My books take me to places that don’t even exist on maps. They’re my getaway when I’m feeling vulnerable.
I don’t understand how I still have a job after being such an obnoxious cunt to so many customers… I only do it when I feel I’m being disrespected though, not saying it’s a good excuse, it’s just the person I am.
I like talking about sex at inappropriate times and I yell when shushed.
I’m a dreamer but also the biggest procrastinator on the planet. I like watching cheesy movies and incorporating them to reality because they make life that much greater. I trip on my own feet sometimes and get up on my own because I want to see if I could do it.
I constantly have to be reminded of things and have repeated that I do exist to someone.
This is my blog, I’m constantly blogging pictures that make me happy and leave glitter in my heart.
I don’t have a point to anything, I’m just sayin’
-Nancy Love 

16.6.11

Downtown LA Building

Morning Home in Montebello


Ontario Rain

LA County Fair

Larry Rodriguez

Marvelous Things Band Photo-shoot in Downtown <3

Chucks in Oxnard park

On our way to Vegas

Macy park after sundown <3

Palos Verdes

Sea World

Sea World

Georgie Hurtado


NANCYLOVE Photography