Might as well give me the damn orange juice too, what is it, like 6 bucks here?
i ordered lamb and eggs but then i thought this is too depressing, sushi is where it's at there's people i can be among, so i held my phone on my ear as i was canceling my order because of an important call but she said the lamb is already on the grill snd I said, "Okay, you got me. This isn't even a phone."
"I wanted to go from A to B and somebody confronted me in between without any sign of welcome. B was Sanchez, to see how badly he was injured. Honestly, I don't listen to what [Mourinho] says."
Fuckin Arsene Wenger. He's French.
Live real madrid commentary
Ramos goes what did i do ref? And Pepe goes yea refwhat did he do? did you forgot to lock the door on your way out?
I'm Superman's drunken brother. You know that episode where Clarke Kent comes home dejected in his taxi because the staff chief called him the King of Passive Verbs and he sees his no-good brother on the steps and after biting small-talk Superman starts arguing about his TV Dinners, and they engage in an toothless ancient undermining, until his brother goes,
- Woa! Back the fuck up! Now, you may not respect me or where I'm coming from...
this is good, this is really good. I have food that I've been staring down at the bar for the last few hours like Oreo used to do because he thought i might steal it—i hurt Oreo fundamentally because i was young and so stupid. He bit my lip off on two occasions, one time he actually did and spit it out (my sister picked it up from the rug and brought it to zee hospital—she was like, gross"—
ohhh... He's doing Wild Horseses, this is very disrespectful on my part, blogging in the bathroom and locking the door like im doing drugs
and I noticed he was running back and forth with me in the living room when i realized I had no upper lip. I wish I could just kiss him for all all those times I thought it was funny to chase him strumming the guitar and all he could do was hide under the table, for him it was July 4 fireworks, and then I would make that kissy sound i make to all dogs and he would relieved come to me and then I would strum again! Or gradually I punked with him enough to make him subconsciously believe I always wanted to steal his food. He was such a softy with a quiet wrath. I love my lack of upper lip. That's my baby's hishatak. I think Punky assumed a lot of his traits after he died. She was actually very happy-go-lucky with Oreo, after his initial ...hmmm..let me try to kill her real quick. But she changed after he died.
ohhh... He's doing Wild Horseses, this is very disrespectful on my part, blogging in the bathroom and locking the door like im doing drugs
this guy's been playing radiohead on the bar stage when it was his turn, like covers, there's not much people here, so it's great for me, im all smiles, he even threw in morrissey "everyday is like sunday" ...psst between me and you, he's butchering em all—he tried mazzy star, there's no way he could pull it off. And if ur gonna do radiohead covers, skip the songs from the radio, i mean there's me and 4 Dodger Blue. Everybody knows that!
Honestly though, it was so cool. Him, right here in my heart. Oh, he's still inside playing, very good taste in music. If i didn't suspect he's gay, i'd slap him in the ass as he walked off stage.
you know when i took that picture, it was supposed to mean something, like look at my despair—damn can't get the pesky camera angle right—there! there! all this effort, this wasteland, down the toilet with you!
Big mistake. It was Qone of those many epiphanies like one drunk talking to another. Worst thing to do is only a little.. Eventually just ended up going back. So that one moment where fantasy and fetish were in my hands—like I fantasized, like my life's fruition had come to play—and it all just sounded so daunting, like running a marathon you have to race, I felt so miserable I couldn't do it and I ran through everything for it
I thought it was the chance out. I thought—well, I didn't understand, as even in that despair I was perplexed by the movement of this insanity. I thought maybe he got stuck with her and was trying to throw her on me—He was fucking her pretty good for awhile. But maybe she gets belligerent when she drinks, and he found himself in that untenable position where when they come for her, the ATF will also find him. He's in a gang, or runs in a network of people. It's not my business, but if that is the case, I can take a step back and quickly take action. I'm not fettered by that quiet wheezing breeze. I know what he does. He's always adding to his legacy, then starting again.
Sometimes I'll have these quick nightmares, that don't run like lines or shapes in a dream. They're not long enough to be nightmares. They have no form, but they reside on a plank in the cusp of a dream. They are more poignant than a breath of your heart shook out of sleep before you even reach...
They are not pleasant. They will not charm you because they are not ugly. (remember that one time I said it was a wounded fly by my feet but it was a piece of lint? Not it's the real thing.I don't know what to do. I mean I probably killed a fly a the other week when I was angry at the cable. Th long I talk the the more pain? I—yes! He just flew. That is just the result I could've wanted. I didn't want anything to do with that situation.). They are the ghost of the brute force of monsters unknowing; they are stronger than resenments and more collected than malice. They are straight undisputed panic no god-fearing citzen w/ a zero tolerance policy on dog-fighting—and to a lesser extent, cock-fighting—should endure. (Fuckin fly took the air out of my cock-fighting bit)
I don't know how to describe it. If it had a shape, it would be a foot. This foot's And in this foot there are oceans. Big oceans. This foot's so big there are so many spaces. In here there are things bigger than oceans. There are places to jump in these spaces. In here I'm a tiny foot, smaller than a fish. And I have to go all the way or else, and to get to places you have to walk, but im so small and and I know that it's giving me 1,2,3, when all there is is infinity.
I don't know how to describe it. All I've felt is the stretching futility as it dawns on me and won't let me go because there's only one way and I can't ever get there., i can't ever think about getting there because it's too big to think
think she's listening?
A) she has to be; im drunk
B) not if her proxy tells her about that last night
C) whats it matter, im just gonna shit on her again
my words cannot express regret
im just eating my hand, when i think im thinking—when I talk—i've just been chewing my arm this whole time
it's a never ending circus...my love
my love
my babe
my love
my babe
my love
my babe
my love
my babe
my love
my babe—you see that?
i say it enough i can say whatever i want to you, i can shit on you
Like, ok, babe, come here...
sit here—no, just sit here
...oh, i just shit on you again...
no, no! my calculations were off—
we just need to tweak it a bit...
cause Me and you are cute! and we're taking a trip to the La Brea tar pits where we bring our lunches, and when you show me your sandwich and say, "Here, take a bite!" my heart gets excited, and you don't realize it, because you're in grade school, but that was that most voracious bite I've ever taken.
A neverending circus for me.
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