I was re-listening to this album last night but this song was hitting particularly hard this time
Today I will feel something other than regret
Pass me a glass and a half-smoked cigarette
I've damn near got no dignity left
I've damn near got no dignity left, oh
I will not be a victim of romance
I will not be a victim of circumstance
Chance or circumstance or romance, or any man
Who could get his dirty little hands on me
Apr 4, 2025
Related Recs
Holding out all my fears and faults
Those that conquer me
Started the second pack
'Fore the first one's finishing
I like to bridge the gap between
A break and long-lost lovers
Only to get me, by until I decide
I've had enough
Most of the time, I can feel them on me
The eyes from the stranger's window
It's dark, and it's lonely, but it's nothin' to me
At least somebody's home
Decades are wasting on your name
You'll grasp the concept of life
When you give up the point of trying
If you don't do the things that you do
They'll just happen to you
Pulling out all my weight
And do my part and you'll say
Oh, I'm so glad you're here with us today
You probably thought you would be gone
And until there's another way
I just have to face that there's no real place
To go and I could really be alone
I'd promise you now that if I had known
I wouldn't be standing here
There's memories to be made
And water that's to wade
I used it all up, drying tears
Of course, I don't regret
The moments where I wept
And yearned for what I've got now
It's only time, it won't age like wine
But it's mine and I'll take the blow
Dec 15, 2024
first single off of ‘Willoughby Tucker, I’ll always love you’ releasing august 8th (early birthday present for me 🤩)
We were in a race to grow up
Yesterday, through today, till tomorrow
But when the plant blew up
A piece of shrapnel flew and slowed that part of you
The doctors gave you until the end of the night
But not till daylight, not till daylight
Time passes slower in the flicker of a hospital light
I pray the race is worth the fight
Made a fool of myself down on Tennessee Street
It wasn't pretty like the movies, it was ugly like what they all did to me
And they did to me what I wouldn't do to anyone
You know that's for sure
Tell me all the time not to worry
And think of all the time that I'll have with you
When I won't wake up on my own, wake up on my own
Held close all the time, knowing I'm half of you
Lay me down where the trees bend low
Put me down where the greenery stings
I can hear them singing
To love me is to suffer me
And I believe it
When I lay with you in that auld lang room
Wishing I was the way you say that you are
You'll go fight a war, I'll go missing
I warned you, for me, it's not that hard
That picture on the wall you're scared of looks just like you
I want to bleed, I want to hurt the way that boys do
Maybe you're right and we should stop watching the news
'Cause, baby, I've never seen brown eyes look so blue
Tell me all the time not to worry (not to worry)
And think of all the time that I'll have with you
When I won't wake up on my own, wake up on my own
Held close all the time, knowing I'm half of you
Think of us inside after the wedding (after the wedding)
Suffering the while to lie a time or two
Where we won't wake up on our own, wake up on our own
Held close all the time, knowing
This was all for you
Think of us inside
Gardenias on the tile
Where it makes no difference who held back from who
(To love me is to suffer me)
6d ago
🎵
this time last year i would listen to this song every day on the subway to my mind-numbingly boring barista job. i worked eight hour shifts alone, serving the occasional customer but mostly just sitting around eating expired baked goods and staring down at my ten-year-old docs spattered with matcha and espresso, the soles crusted with sidewalk salt. i listened to Phair singing about closing her eyes and her bank account and needing someone to do her thinking for her, and i fantasized about walking away from the shapeless, sleepy postgraduate life i’d sunk into.
taking off my apron, abandoning the city and everyone who knew me there, getting on a train or a plane or just walking until i was swallowed by the sunset…it all sounds so trite now, but at the time i carried that idea around like a lucky charm. something to hold onto, to help me feel real. i thought it was the most romantic thing a girl could do. go west, young woman.
Jan 26, 2024
Top Recs from @taterhole
My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebody—be it a relative or one of my best friends—was to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too 💌
Feb 23, 2025
May 28, 2025
🖐
I’ve been thinking about how much of social media is centered around curating our self-image. When selfies first became popular, they were dismissed as vain and vapid—a critique often rooted in misogyny—but now, the way we craft our online selves feels more like creating monuments.
We try to signal our individuality, hoping to be seen and understood, but ironically, I think this widens the gap between how others perceive us and who we really are. Instead of fostering connection, it can invite projection and misinterpretation—preconceived notions, prefab labels, and stereotypes. Worse, individuality has become branded and commodified, reducing our identities to products for others to consume.
On most platforms, validation often comes from how well you can curate and present your image—selfies, aesthetic branding, and lifestyle content tend to dominate. High engagement is tied to visibility, not necessarily depth or substance. But I think spaces like PI.FYI show that there’s another way: where connection is built on shared ideas, tastes, and interests rather than surface-level content. It’s refreshing to be part of a community that values thoughts over optics.
By sharing so few images of myself, I’ve found that it gives others room to focus on my ideas and voice. When I do share an image, it feels intentional—something that contributes to the story I want to tell rather than defining it. Sharing less allows me to express who I am beyond appearance.
For women, especially, sharing less can be a radical act in a world where the default is to objectify ourselves. It resists the pressure to center appearance, focusing instead on what truly matters: our thoughts, voices, and authenticity. I’ve posted a handful of pictures of myself in 2,500 posts because I care more about showing who I am than how I look.
In trying to be seen, are we making it harder for others to truly know us? It’s a question worth considering.
Dec 27, 2024