Funiculì Funiculà

I am a fledgling designer with a borderline-obnoxious obsession with typefaces and proper grammar; a love of cheap earrings, baking, and the color green; and far too much time to kill on the intertubes.

February 7, 2012 at 3:03pm
Reblogged from sfmoma
sfmoma:

A love letter written to Belle and Sebastian, a print by Justin Walsh and Nissa Ellison-Walsh:

Dear Seymour Stein,
Have you considered that we should be seeing other people? Maybe the stars of track and field? I know, I know… you’re just the boy done wrong, again. But I’m sick of waiting for the moon to rise when we’re together.
I’m the wrong girl for you. There’s too much love, but I still feel like I’m always wandering alone. You see, you’re always wrapped up in books, and with the state I am in, that leaves me feeling the loneliness of a middle distance runner.
So I’m waking up to us. Put the book back on the shelf, because there won’t be any more words written about you and me.
I know you’ll probably be hurt by this (is it wicked not to care?), but when I’m with you, the blues are still blue and in the state that I am in your expectations are just too much. I just want to be myself completely.
I wish I could say that my wandering days are over, but the truth is I don’t love anyone now.
You’ll probably tell your friends that I’m just another calculating bimbo. But I can see your future and if you, too, stop, look and listen, you’ll know that I’m right.
So don’t leave the light on baby, or at least not for me. But one day, if you find yourself caught in love again, remember that once you were mine, my funny little frog.
Stay loose,
Mary Jo 

sfmoma:

A love letter written to Belle and Sebastian, a print by Justin Walsh and Nissa Ellison-Walsh:

Dear Seymour Stein,

Have you considered that we should be seeing other people? Maybe the stars of track and field? I know, I know… you’re just the boy done wrong, again. But I’m sick of waiting for the moon to rise when we’re together.

I’m the wrong girl for you. There’s too much love, but I still feel like I’m always wandering alone. You see, you’re always wrapped up in books, and with the state I am in, that leaves me feeling the loneliness of a middle distance runner.

So I’m waking up to us. Put the book back on the shelf, because there won’t be any more words written about you and me.

I know you’ll probably be hurt by this (is it wicked not to care?), but when I’m with you, the blues are still blue and in the state that I am in your expectations are just too much. I just want to be myself completely.

I wish I could say that my wandering days are over, but the truth is I don’t love anyone now.

You’ll probably tell your friends that I’m just another calculating bimbo. But I can see your future and if you, too, stop, look and listen, you’ll know that I’m right.

So don’t leave the light on baby, or at least not for me. But one day, if you find yourself caught in love again, remember that once you were mine, my funny little frog.

Stay loose,

Mary Jo