If we’re both not married by twenty-two
Could I be so bold and ask you?
If we’re both not married by twenty-three
Will you make my year, and ask me?
If we’re both not married by twenty-four
Will you pass me those knee pads and I’ll get on the floor
If we’re both not married by twenty-five
I hope that there’s some childish spark still alive
this blog has gon thru @ least like 5 distinct devolutions n the nxt stage is almost definitely gonna b selfies only blog, I can feel it in my bones, it’s coming on
The Alnwick Poison Garden is pretty much what you’d think it is: a garden full of plants that can kill you (among many other things). Some of the plants are so dangerous that they have to be kept behind bars. [x]
– i really haven’t been too good this year.
[goes up 2 an irish person] ur accent is erhotic
omfg im on phone so I cant readmore but .. pls .. feel free 2 avert ur eyes from this folly my lord rme
everything is dreadful, or, no that’s not true, or, how are you supposed to say things when there are other things that you would really RATHER be doing, or, how are you supposed when there are other things that please you and in doing so trick you into thinking you want, actually want, to do them, I don’t know, it’s all this functionality and productivity and probability and all of that and I was so pleased in sixth grade, or it must have been eighth, when someone did something with the word amistad in it and I figured something out on my own, which is how it always is. the location at which you strike your tongue, the ridge or against the gum, feminine nouns of generalness, teeth-tapping. these things that are an arbitration not in the sense with which we typically consider them but in other ways. regarding not the sign and the signifier but the signifier and the usage. god, how dull to be thinking about it all the time but it doesn’t matter because it entertains you and that, really, is probably the most important thing because it is a continued means of breathing, stretching yourself out like soft white string, for tin-can telephones maybe, your spine collapsing forward and aligning. you can watch it without even closing your eyes. the tug-jerk and the graceful fall as you keep blinking even though you cannot see your eyes, yeah, it would be nice, to be able to sink gently down like that and lie on the floor, maybe, moving without restlessness or rush. staring at things from that angle, you know? everyone loved it when I showed them. fighting the insistence or repetition of ‘they really did.’ of course dull and dole are not the same , of course, it’s strange that anyone listening to you speak could here it otherwise, dull, dull, dull like they is / they is / they is