stop it stop it stop it it’s okay you know
Kevin Devine, talking about “It Never Stops” (via blue-raft)
This quotation hurts me almost as much as the song You’re A Mirror I Cannot Avoid does, and gosh, stop, I miss you and I love you and I’m happy but I’m not and this huge part of me does not believe that any love that isn’t friendship more than friendship itself is worth anything to me and why do I have to be such an asexual or something weirdo who feels things differently from other people and also THE UNIVERSE, I don’t even think about the universe anymore. I can’t even get that far, there’s like a gap between me and there. I miss you and you don’t exist. I’m getting off tumblr, yo. It’s way past time to make soup
THERE IS SOMETHING VERY WRONG WITH THE GENERAL MALE MENTALITY WHEN I, AS A MALE WITH MANY FEMALE FRIENDS, HAVE TO FREQUENTLY PRETEND TO BE MY FRIENDS’ BOYFRIEND SIMPLY SO OTHER DUDES WON’T BE CREEPY AND FUCKING GROPE THEM
THERE IS SOMETHING VERY WRONG WITH THE GENERAL MALE MENTALITY WHEN THEY RESPECT COMPETITION MORE THAN THE ACTUAL PERSON THEY’RE TRYING TO GET WITH
You tell me you didn’t sleep well. I say
I didn’t either. You had a terrible night. “Me too.”
We’re extraordinarily calm and tender with each other
as if sensing the other’s rickety state of mind.
As if we knew what the other was feeling. We don’t,
of course. We never do. No matter.
It’s the tenderness I care about. That’s the gift
this morning that moves and holds me.
Same as every morning. "The Gift" by Raymond Carver (via flaowww)
hello? no i can’t food with you today, i’m sorry. well i’ve gotta walk my clock, you see. it’s so restless. it keeps running. it’s got the hiccups. it wants attention, i give it too much attention but maybe if i taught it to walk it would know that no where is really all that far
maybe it would let me sleep
hello? hey have you ever seen a teapot? you can fill it with so many space. so many outer space. spaces, like the kind between each word on a parking ticket? astronomy died so you could parallel park like an asshole this morning, show some respect, assholes have a hard life. once they exist from the ends of felt tip pens, they never know they aren’t stars. entire universes come out of assholes. hello? hello?
hello what do i do, i saw steven sleeping on a park bench last night. it was made of teeth i think isn’t that weird how everything is teeth how everything is benches how every teeth is benches how benches have a sunrise channel but a broken remote. my shoes are a working remote like my phone is a working remote like my thermostat like my netflix account like my scabs like my ceiling is a working remote even when the paint chips into inkblots that look like steven. have you seen steven? where is steven? i need to stop changing the channel
puppy sized elephant emporium! how may i help you? we have all kinds of elephants, we have so many elephants. wearing pants. purple pants, with trumpet flower pockets. and lady bugs singing the buttons electric! are you still sad? don’t be sad. our elephants are little but they know so much. you are too, you always will be, but you know so much. look at how much you know. look where your skin creases with it.
yes hello welcome to the rainforest cafe. welcome to the rainforest. do you hear the rain? listen to the rain. the space between each drop died so you can astronomy today. you’re made of old star parts and dust bunnies and gluten allergies and forgotten punchlines. popsicle sticks frisbee’d themselves into the sky so you could cry today. it’s why the sunset just kinda hits you sometimes, you see. we close at 7
hello? oh hey darling. i mean sweetie, no honey, or baby. i mean baby. i mean ribcage. i mean grapefruit. no, i mean poem. poem, poem. hello poem. don’t hang up on me, i can hear you breathing. i know you’re there. do you ever forget to return your library books sometimes too?
hello? yes this is she. this is me. this is i. this is my eye, it’s brown. like poop, but also like chocolate. but also like birthmarks. but also like oatmeal, brown sugar. like brown sugar. like sugar, like bookshelf, made out of dead wood, so tree ghosts. my eyes are brown like trees. but also like dead leaves. but also like alive books before they’re books, so like trees. like alive trees. like yours. a lot like yours, my eyes are brown like yours.
hello? yes i can’t come into work today. well i guess because i’m kanye west but also because i’m sad. all my favorite people keep turning into wind chimes. well that’s said because i mean, wind chimes is my favorite flavor. i keep eating people i love. i keep eating people
turn that damned sky off, I’ve got to finish this dream, I have to follow it. I am twenty-three credits dry of catching up but i’ve got a semester of sweat collecting in my ankles. every morning my dream jogs with the clock, they’ve both learned that no where is really all that far if you’re willing to walk. can’t remember if they learned that from me
they count steps together and i wake up too late to tie their shoelaces together. i don’t pay enough attention, i’m restless. i rest. i sleep. i’m sleeping. hello? hello?