February 2012
4 posts
now i do as i please, and i lie through my teeth. someone might get hurt, but it won’t be me. i should probably feel cheap, but i just feel free and a little bit empty.
remember the first time you saw star wars when you were old enough to have a crush on han solo and not luke?
re: the letter
it might have been corny and dramatic but it was something that i needed to do. i saw a mailbox today, i walked on bowery, it said “fuck you” and i said “fuck you” right back.
help me, will!
[pale fire]
January 2012
50 posts
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“if you want to be commander-in-chief you can start by standing up for the men...”
– obama during orlando gop debate
Grocery Shopping for the Modern Independent Woman
thetangential:
Let’s say you live alone, have an income comparable to when you babysat the neighborhood kids in high school, refuse to let your future dead corpse decompose by filling it with as many preservatives as you can while you’re alive, and are most definitely a lady-type. How do you successfully shop for your own groceries? It is the middle of January, after all, which means you...
Swan Song
ingridrichter:
In ancient times, it was the belief that a swan, unable all its life to sing like other birds, would burst forth into glorious song when it felt the approach of death.
A Hog on Ice by Charles Earle Funk, 1948.
“will the wind that blew her boat across the sea kindly send her sailing back to...”
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lenarhea:
Who remembers
Motherfucking Scholastic
Book
Orders
And then the magical travelling romani circus of scholastic would randomly show up and you’d never care to buy any books but they had AWESOME gadgets and toys for sale
at the motherfucking BOOK FAIR
YES
FUCK YES
OH GOSH
Sweet Jesus the Book Fairs kicked ass
and the posters and fun mini toys and
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Listen
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Words about El
“Choke me,” she said.
I wrapped my left hand around her throat and pushed down.
“Harder.”
I pushed.
“Harder,” she gasped and her face was turning red.
I’ve never been so worried about another human being than when my hand was wrapped around her neck, veins and eyes in danger of coming loose and hosing me down with great spurts of blood from her fragile...
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Barking at the moon? That’s all love ever is. Love is not a harpischord concert in a genteel drawing room. And it sure as hell isn’t Social Security, Laetrile, the Irish Sweepstakes, or roller disco. Love is private and primitive and a bit on the funky and frightening side. I think of the Luna card in the Tarot deck: some strange, huge crustacean, its armor glistening and its pinchers...
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You'd think because I have this blog that I care...
“honestly, if you’re not willing to sound stupid, you don’t deserve...”
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it's a wonder that those guns don't point at you...
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