mom cries every time i talk to her

Posted: November 29th, 2011 | No Comments »

what to do.


found on facebook

Posted: November 29th, 2011 | No Comments »
I don’t like to take naps. I don’t like to wake up more than once a day. ‘Cause when I first wake up I get that shock of who I am and everything. I… I really don’t like to do that more than once a day.
– Warren Evans in The Lonely Guy (1984)

threat level HAZEL

Posted: November 29th, 2011 | No Comments »

white shirt, white sweater, white pants. that’s carlos santana, folks. i.e., my new style inspiration. don’t be alarmed if you see me wearing this outfit next month. actually i’m pretty sure i wore this my first day of freshman year, minus the sweater, but def white on white with white sneakers. i put it on with great pride and then listened to my prerecorded “get excited and not scared about high school” mix tape, which included “if i were a rich man” from fiddler on the roof and “i’ve got confidence” from sound of music.

OBVIOUSLY DOOMED TO NOT KISS A MAN BEFORE AGE 18.

here’s a hard thing: saying “i’m in love with you” and not hearing it said back. a hard good durable test thing. like really being alive and living for yourself, with no withholding.


is this for real

Posted: November 23rd, 2011 | No Comments »

i have to write a character reference letter for my mom, and i’m trying to find samples online, and came across this “criminal character reference letter.” ?!

To Whom It May Concern:

Please consider this letter as my certification that Mr. Ronald Brooks is a criminal as he was proven to be the murderer of his own family here in New York. I was one of their nearest neighbors and I have heard his family screaming the night they were murdered.


style inspiration 90

Posted: November 19th, 2011 | No Comments »

i know this person, so it’s kinda weird to post, but cool top cool jeans cool boots, gimme dem boots.


inventions and an idea

Posted: November 19th, 2011 | No Comments »

here’s an invention i want: driver’s seat built for two.

it might already be invented as a bench seat. if so, i’d like to change the name to “driver’s seat built for two.”

and here’s an academic paper i want someone to write: the power of oldies. oldies as a gateway drug for music lovers.

THE END


exuberance

Posted: November 16th, 2011 | No Comments »

one day imma dance like andre. 4 ril dough.


poor little guy. a person was just some meat on a frame

Posted: November 15th, 2011 | No Comments »

read it all:

When Allen was close to the end, Eber had done a presentation at school on the manatee. Got an A from Sister Eustace. Who could be quite tough. She was missing two fingers on her right hand from a lawnmower incident and sometimes used that hand to scare a kid silent.

He hadn’t thought of this in years.

She’d put that hand on his shoulder not to scare him but as a form of praise. That was just terrific. Everyone should take their work as seriously as Donald here. Donald, I hope you’ll go home and share this with your parents. He’d gone home and shared it with Mom. Who suggested he share it with Allen. Who, on that day, had been more Allen than THAT. And Allen—

Ha, wow, Allen. There was a man.

Tears sprang into his eyes as he sat by the woodstove.

Allen had—Allen had said it was great. Asked a few questions. About the manatee. What did they eat again? Did he think they could effectively communicate with one another? What a trial that must have been! In his condition. Forty minutes on the manatee? Including a poem Eber had composed? A sonnet? On the manatee?

He’d felt so happy to have Allen back.

I’ll be like him, he thought. I’ll try to be like him.


he was like the bed at a party on which they pile the coats

Posted: November 15th, 2011 | No Comments »

the best story. have read it twice, and cried weeping style throughout. READ IT.

He heard her in the entryway. Mol, Molly, oh, boy. When they were first married they used to fight. Say the most insane things. Afterward, sometimes there would be tears. Tears in bed? Somewhere. And then they would—Molly pressing her hot wet face against his hot wet face. They were sorry, they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone’s affection for you always expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing he’d ever—

— “Tenth of December,” George Saunders


still into this song

Posted: November 9th, 2011 | 1 Comment »

also. joined spotify today.