Mila Jaroniec

Time didn’t have real meaning in high school and I didn’t know how much I had or when I’d have it, just that I fundamentally, nebulously did.

No one tells you that you’ll get tired of love. No one tells you that no matter how happy you are in your relationship, occasionally you’ll wish you had only yourself to take care of again.

You are not a person so much as an event: a sold-out, VIP, strippers & cocaine event.

Every song title on the playlist starts with a word from the poem, in the order the words appear. So you can read the poem here in five seconds, or you can read it as it plays over nine hours.

I quit smoking and now I have no idea what to do with myself in public.

Asphyxiation. Attachment (developing/becoming attached to). Being bored. Blanking. Breaking concentration.

I don’t mind the occasional conversation with a close friend, but when a near stranger asks me, as they often do, “So you make enough money writing?” or “No offense, but how do you live?” I do everything in my power to not freak out.

What is it like to be so many things?

My father’s first love was chemistry. He figured out he wanted to be a scientist way before he could finish his first chapter book and proceeded to make himself that, and hasn’t stopped working since.

I didn’t trust your science for years but now that I drink more water I mysteriously don’t get headaches anymore. I never liked to admit you were right about anything but this time I kind of wish I could tell you.

This playlist is comprised of all manner of weirdness with a good backbeat, from pop to electronica to Eurotrash.

The thing is, there’s no real way to decide who goes where until your life equilibrium is disrupted somehow, a byproduct of any kind of disaster, natural, emotional, physical or whatever.