can't dwell on the past but the day to day reads much too dryly. can't drink coffee without crashing ( Read more... )

the dignity of loss is best preserved in solitude ( Read more... )

it is my intention to write. i spend too much time reading, gazing into my own reflection, doubting others and folding my face into various shapes of contempt. while standing bored behind the bar at work, i often pick up a pen and a pad of guest checks. i tell myself to record "the experience." suddenly it seems like there is no "experience." i am ( Read more... )

i feel indebted to fountains of emotions i'm not actually experiencing. for so long they comprised the meat of the words i've written, but they're not around anymore. some artists are sleeping on my couch. they let me see their sketchbooks the other night. it was the tiniest handwriting enveloping images from their days. before they go to sleep, ( Read more... )

my faith in coffee has been completely diminished by this rude awakening ( Read more... )

when will i stop trying to critique the space where an artist's soul should be and just accept that shit-eaters are gonna overrun the earth with slacktivism and low self-esteem. i remember writing the most nihilistic piece of crap essay in high school about how artists don't owe society a fucking thing and when they quote unquote get political they ( Read more... )

were you happy when the witch was dead?

haven't done much homework ( Read more... )

so finally they're linking coffee with reduced risk of depression in women ( Read more... )

some people don't see the value in analyzing any idiosyncrasy they exhibit because they think personality quirks come from a foggy place of mystery. then there's people like me, who invent groups of people using large generalizations whose existence they can never seamlessly prove for the sole purpose of comparison with the ultimate goal of saying ( Read more... )