I’m just a Sheri Moon looking for her Rob Zombie.


Thrifted for two hours and I can’t even believe everything that I got. Steinbeck’s East of Eden, The Selected Poems of William Butler Yeats, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Holmes by “John Watson” dedicated to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, another older copy of A Tale of Two Cities by Dickens, Eight Tales of Terror by Edgar Allan Poe, Beloved by Toni Morrison, This Side of Paradise by Fitzgerald, a collection of Rudyard Kipling’s poetry, A Room Without a View by E. M. Forster, Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert, The Country of the Blind and other Stories by H. G. Wells, a giant old, beautiful copy of the Complete Works of William Shakespeare (again), a book on writing about film, The Amityville Horror by Jay Anson, another older copy of Crime and Punishment, a collection of speeches that changed the world, and a strange little book called What Mrs. Eddy said to Arthur Brisbane. Oh, and a print of Monet and one of Van Gogh, and a bunch of vinyls, all for less than $22 (and the majority of them are old and hardcovers). It’s going to take the rest of my life to read all the books I’ve bought. This is the greatest. 

^ this is my blog full of things i like.

my other blog, correroja, is full of words and images i find lovely.

feel free to follow them (vancouver, and those two) if you’d like xx

work has been going wonderfully. yes its tiresome but i’ve been able to save up quite a bit and i hope to do the same over winter break. my coworkers are fantastic and working with children every day is pretty great. things are looking up. school’s starting back up soon - i’m going to do everything in my power to pull straight a’s again, write as much as humanly possible and become more involved in the art/writing/music scene. oh, and more publishing and working on my novel. 

sidenote: met a mom and her little son at work, got to talking, gave her my contact information. her daughter is in high school, is about to have the same shoulder surgery i had (mine was from volleyball, hers tennis) and she is an aspiring writer. so she’s going to come meet me after work or on my break and im going to do what i can to help her feel better about the surgery and hopefully become a mentor for her work. i’m way excited to meet her. she sounds bunches like me when i was in hs and i wouldve given anything to have someone help me with all that way back when. 

 positive vibes all around. xx

Of Wednesdays


We’d lost sight of ourselves that afternoon amongst the poppies of Gloucestershire. We’d lain – lain for what seemed like ages, pale limbs engulfed in a sea of red. The varying hues of the surrounding atmosphere dripped like watered-down acrylics, painted hills that mimicked the curvature of your spine.

You’d taken me in your arms, head nuzzled against your bare chest. With the hand of a surgeon and heart of a poet, you’d learnt me; memorized the contour of my mouth and read my every bone as if it were braille.

You’d made wishes with your fingertips, a new promise with every caress. Enveloped by the evening sky, I was certain nothing was brighter in the world than that which you held in the confines of your chest. 

I’d brushed my lips between your shoulder blades as if I were charting the constellations; Caelum and Cancer, Columba and Cornis, every star with more ardor than the last. In that moment, I had discovered more on the maps of your flesh than in any book I had clutched to my chest. It seemed fitting, for all you had wanted to be was the sky. 



turn me inside-out and i will show you

every mark,

every limb torn from its socket

in an attempt to hold you,

make you stay.

i will point out scars like a trail -

i am breadcrumbs and leaky faucets,

black lung and

vacant apartment buildings.

take my spine and split me down the center,

crack me open to your favorite page -

read the passages that

pulse through my veins and 

quote me as if the words you

ground between your teeth sharpened

were a city of gold, a fountain of youth. 

read me to your children, grandchildren

i dare you - 

tell them of the woman you ransacked

like a village,

how you set fire to her soul and

watched her burn like salem.

i pray you remember

as elephants do

that the words from your lips are 

tainted - red,

and that the monsters in your favorite books

are much less frightening

than the man who reads of them. 

keewee-flavour: Do you have any suggestions for getting more involved in the tumblr writing community or even just forming relationships with other writers individually?

Well, I’m a bit out of touch because I became “involved” last fall around November - December when I was posting poetry constantly but here are some suggestions, love. 

  • Join the #TWC (Tumblr Writing Community) tag by tagging your work. Also, tag it as #spilledink #writing #rejectscorner, etc. 
  • Search the #TWC tag and see who else is writing, and if you like their work, give ‘em a follow!
  • Join TinyChat chat rooms that are posted every so often. That’s how I got to really “talk” with other Tumblr writers. madworlddiary posts them often, and she’s a sweetheart.
  • Introduce yourself, love! Are there other writers you admire? Let them know, and get to know each other. Don’t feel awkward sending Asks. A simple hello can be a great start to a friendship.
  • When there are contests, prompts and writing things going around, feel free to do the ones that catch your eye and tag your work accordingly to get it out there and meet others!

And to all writers reading this, feel free to follow Kesia! She’s a beautiful soul and she writes absolutely lovely. 

Good luck, dear. You’re already considered my friend xx

- Adriana

cdtswa: Flower

Flower: Do you like how you are as a person? 

Physically, of course not. Who I am on the inside, I’m not sure. I’d like to say yes, it was my firs thought, but I don’t feel it’s appropriate to say that I do. 

Thanks, dear. 


- Adriana

mountainhands: Vine! :)

Vine: Do you have any bad habits? 

Yes. I have a number of them. 

  • I’m very, very self-deprecating and am highly critical of my appearance, but not for aesthetic reasons. 
  • I tend to procrastinate, but always make sure to get things done on time no matter the circumstance and to the very best of my ability.
  • I have little to no faith in myself, except on days I forget to take my medication and/or are in a manic state. I’ve been working on it, but it doesn’t feel right to me.
  • I eat my feelings when I give up and binge. The majority of the time, I don’t eat or eat very little. I count everything. I just take diet pills and work toward ridding myself of my weight. But, for the past two months I’ve been eating, have put on a lot of weight, and it’s only added to the negativity. 
  • I’ve been 100+ days self-harm free which I’m very proud of, but the thought it always there. I’m hoping I’m over that “habit”, but it’s a daily struggle.
  • The rest of my “bad habits” aren’t habits, per say. My bipolar and social anxiety cause a lot of problems and this past semester, I was basically a recluse in my dorm and focused only on school. Even interacting with friends terrified me and going out/being in groups/speaking gave me panic attacks. When I have things under control, I’m a completely different person. 

I’m working toward dealing with all of these things and then some. It’s a day-to-day process. It’s a constant cycle of trying to get better and only getting worse, but I know things won’t always be this way.

It’s a process. I’ll get better. We all will. 

If anyone happens to read this and ever needs someone to talk to about anything I’ve mentioned, or anything in general, I’d be more than willing to talk and help. 

Thank you, dear. All the best, take care. 


- Adriana

Turning a giant piece of cardboard into something rad Part I & II.

Cardboard, acrylic paint.
My hand is about to fall off.

Good vibes. This is so unlike my art lol - Adriana

Got the summer job at Nordstrom.

Celebratory lunch with Bret, the most perfect man on Earth.

knicholai: How many times have you fallen in love in the rain? Oh, what I meant to say is; How many times have you fallen in love with yourself in the rain?

Oh, wow. 

Story time:

Two or so weeks ago, it was pouring out and it was around 11 PM. I sat in bed contemplating whether I should remain wrapped in blankets or run outside and play in the rain. I thought about it for a few minutes, threw on a cami and shorts and skipped out the front door onto the driveway. I just stood and turned about in circles looking up at this dark, dark sky and it - it overwhelmed me. I couldn’t tell you prior to that moment when I’d last stood or even felt rain without trying to run from it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always enjoyed the rain, but I’d forgotten what it felt like - what it really felt like. 

A few minutes later, two of my siblings came out and reprimanded me, assuming there was an ulterior motive to my wanting to play in the rain. So, the moment was cut short. 

I didn’t exactly fall in love with myself that night, but I have a newfound appreciation for the exquisite, quiet beauty in everydayness. And for that, I am eternally grateful. 

- Adriana

Ode to a Writer.


you blink

vicodin and think 

the world will forget that 

your hands are

red heads of matchsticks 

waiting for friction.



hills like white elephants and watercolor sky

penned hemingway between sips of scotch one evening.


we proclaim

through lens to a landscape -

polaroid-preserve nature; a fine moment indeed.


we insist

to charred mountain-range faces,

to brooks silenced in concrete from…



morning -

and i can no

longer tell if

my heart races from

the coffee or the

sound of your voice. 

"Poema XX - Pablo Neruda"
Adriana Maria Long
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