Hello! I am moving! Over here:
photaquota.tumblr.com
I named this “fuckyeahphotaquota” on a total whim after seeing all these “fuckyeah(whatever)” tumblrs…it seemed funny at the time but now I actually want to maintain it and the name is bugging me so I am moving while it’s still early and I hope you will come along. I reposted all of the posts here but I’m done now so the spam-y period of moving is done. New posts will be over there now.
(I’ll post a few new posts here linking to the new tumblr again since things get buried here so fast so please unfollow this one and follow that one instead if you’d still like to see my posts, yes?) I’ll leave up current posts so they won’t disappear if you’ve reblogged them. I am only deleting posts with no notes on them. Thank you so much for liking the things I’ve been posting, please come along! I will stay put, promise!
"In her room, at her mirror, she finds that each familiar action has changed slightly, has slipped sideways into a new light, a new meaning. This will be the first time that she goes to work and leaves a man waiting for her at home – a man whom she wants to come home to – and though she finds herself very attached to him, she is looking forward to this time alone with her regular life, this somewhat defiant break. It’s getting hard to watch him, and she could stand a dose of pain on her own terms – the addict’s thrill of the self-administered injection, sometimes performed just for the sensory sting, long after the heroin has run out."
— John O’Brien, Leaving Las Vegas
"Television amounts to a series of cruel plays about people with purpose; she even envies characters who are killed on screen or doomed to die during a commercial. If faced with her own imminent death, she could at least release the relentless anxiety of futility. A suicide though, even one portrayed ineptly on a daytime drama, fills her with vexation, makes her feel alien to a species that can produce such options. Rejecting the contradiction, afraid of pursuing the logic, she has never pondered the line that runs between death and death at one’s own hands. It is a non-question, irrelevant. It is one of those tricks of reasoning that can only be seen on an abstract level, for brought to terms with bread and water, it comes undone."
— John O’Brien, Leaving Las Vegas
![[phota][quota]](http://static.tumblr.com/cdtdjxa/g7kljzpmh/header_copy_copy.jpg)
![“ I played in New Orleans once at an old man bar, but then all these punk rocker kids and sorta rowdy people were there, and it seemed like they were forcefully trying to make me stop playing. They were making fun of me, these punk rock girls. […] But fuck, I mean, we’ve all done things like that. Maybe they just wanted to have a good Friday night or whatever. But I got upset, I was just like, this is such a joke, so I stopped playing and started reading the paper right there. In the spotlight.”-Chan Marshall / Cat Power](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lk4muq4Ub51qjpb42o1_1280.jpg)
