got to take a fower super shast.
my legs are hairy because i haven’t shaved, not because i’m trying to prove anything
There are places I remember all my life
Though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
Of lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I loved them all
slow down little heart
*walked, talked, watched, listened, thought, chewed, breathed…
Every time I wear my boots with shorts I remind myself of Abigail Breslin in Little Miss Sunshine… which isn’t a bad thing, except that I sometimes get “Super Freak” stuck in my head.
Going back in Chinatown
Three’s not a crowd to her, she says
“Room 714, I’ll be waiting”
haahaha I fucking really love that song. I requested it once at a homecoming dance… people were not into that. LOL
"Speak about beauty, truth and goodness, or about a God who is simply the indwelling principle of these three, speak about a great spiritual force pervading all things, a common mind of which we are all parts, a pool of generalized spirituality to which we can all flow, and you will command friendly interest. But the temperature drops as soon as you mention a God who has purposes and performs particular actions, who does one thing and not another, a concrete, choosing, commanding, prohibiting God with a determinate character. (Then) people become embarrassed or angry."
C. S. Lewis, “Christian Apologetics”
“This objection is rooted in what I call me-centered spirituality. By “me-centered,” I mean the rather recent assumption that the essence of spirituality is the development of my inner potentials, the fulfillment of my inner desires, the realization of my inner divinity. It is no surprise that me-centered spirituality prefers domesticated gods - gods that can be harnessed by me for my spiritual purposes (impersonal spiritual energy; “Genie;” “Christian” therapeutic spirituality; etc.). And it is no surprise that me-centered spirituality is offended by any God who claims the right to displace me as the center.”
i am so into myself
it’s fucking gross
The way we communicate is
not so far from how
we misinterpret and lose
mostlydinosaur: this resonates in the pit of my stomach
catch me perfectly mimicking Noam Chomsky’s body language at your local pub
like trying to go day without glancing at your reflection
like realizing you’ll never be the same
afternoon in the park,
friends since ‘93
Earlier today I pretended not to follow an old lady to her car.
I heard her talking about maps and then, as she walked out of my neighbors backyard, I saw that the back of her shirt said “city gardens.” Sometimes, when you just have a feeling about someone, you don’t think first about the social acceptability of approaching a stranger with nothing to say, or even to put shoes on, you just go.
And sometimes, less times than you end up creating awkward conversations, you make a new friend.
Her name was Mary Margaret and she drove me with no shoes to a garden up the street and then back to my house. I shared the front seat with her soggy 11 year old dog, Moranda, who turned all the way around and looked me right in the eyes when Mary asked her what she thought of me. I kept my arm around Moranda as we drove and Mary told me about civic agriculture.
We exchanged emails when she dropped me off - this is when she stopped in the middle of 4th street without turning on her hazards and dug around in her car for paper and a pen.
A rare and perfect collision of souls…