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world cup
I'm baptizing these April to May months as sentimental sap summer. My brain is baked to the core, and apparently the core is a sentimental sap.
elise, would you still go with me to brazil?
of course, dad.
even if it's four years from now? you might be doing something important with your life!
dad, you know I won't. -
one foot in, and one foot back
Summer is bad because the weather is hotter than you can normally tolerate, because, with nothing to do, there is nothing to distract you from dealing with your relationships, because your parents take you to see Everyone's Fine* and you bawl fifteen minutes into the movie and even with your allergy from the wasabi popcorn working up, you can't ( Read more... ) -
autopsy
What I found out from my detox, in a nutshell: that I have higher tolerance for alcohol than I have for people. -
so my detox isn't working
So my detox isn't working and my paper and orals kinda blew and tomorrow I think I might cut all my jeans into shorts.
At least I figured out one thing today: I like watching old films when I'm lonely. Especially when there's singing. -
boring post is boring
Des is smart. The probability of me crashing and burning should be greatly reduced if I compartmentalize my school work by day.
Tues
[x] Geog1 Talent Show + Pakain
[x] Art Stud2 Final Presentation (lol@this, it's about analyzing the art behind the presidentiables' ads and my group's doing Gibo and Bro. Eddie)
Wed[x] CL100 Pre-exam (which if I ( Read more... ) -
dear brother:
Yeah, our parents fuck us up, but I think it's in a way that's supposed to counteract all the fucking up the world will eventually do to us when we're riper and older and have enough in us to actually do some good ( Read more... ) -
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So I think black sheep syndrome is manifested in subtle physical deviations. Like, I have ridiculously small feet compared to all my girl cousins, including the eleven-year-old who's a size bigger than me - something I figured out when we switched shoes at mass ( Read more... ) -
I want more.
Iggy Pop is my dad's age plus a hundred years. He has a beer belly full of scars and a dirty blonde horse mane that he probably never washes, but pukes on. He usually sings shirtless, except he doesn't sing. He screams every lyric as if he wants to punch you square in the face, he doesn't know you. He doesn't know you at all. One day, he screamed, ( Read more... ) -
en media res
I should be making use of you, blog, and spill in way too intimate detail and song lyrics the high points and low points of my table-setting life right now. There isn't any more sense in pretending like I'm not the attention-grubbing corpse that I am, cringingly. But fuck you and no thanks. Here is a picture of a tomato instead.
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(Untitled)
My headband is crushing my skull, so my brain is only one-fourths working.
Here you go, a playlist.
( Read more... )