#fevers
I don’t stream a lot of TV
but once I’m in that mode, I’m down
and I can’t get up.
Best pickup line I heard this week:
“You could be my emergency contact.”
A girl recently called me “weird people.”
She was effusive and I was put in my place.
Apparently, good grammar isn’t legally enforceable.
Her friend apologized, saying—and wrote it down.
“She lives on her phone; it’s a claustrophobic place.”
“Ooo!” I’d said, "Can I use that?” She gave me a blank look.
Leong, lisa and I were walking to class when a lone goose flew over,
honking incessantly, like a New York taxi in heavy traffic.
“That must be a Canadian goose,” I said, because my uninformed comments seem forever welcome—and we are pretty far north.
“I know what it was saying,” Leong offered, in her most inscrutable Asian way. Lisa and I waited to hear some Chinese wisdom, but what she finally said was, “Where IS everyone? I knew I shouldn’t have stopped to ***
There’s a song that goes, “We got married in a fever.”
That line seems so point-on to me. That’s how it happens.
Not, “We got married with a prenup, hotter than a brussel sprout.”
My Grandmère told me Peter and I will need a prenup, if we ever…
.
.
Songs for this:
Feather by Sabrina Carpenter [E]
Head In The Clouds by BabyJake
Jackson (feat. Josh Homme) by Florence + the Machine
Apr 6, 2025
Apr 6, 2025 at 9:21 PM UTC
Sing the beloved
Young lover, from far away
Often, desire the night
It overtakes us
In an endless uproar
We soon lost sight of the sun
Listen as it makes itself hollow
Where are the years between
You and the surging abyss
Lay there relieved with the sweetness
Of a gentle world made for you
Dreaming, flushed with what fevers
Entangled in the tendrils
Of inner event
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 2:25 AM UTC
I'll be okay if you aren't here to hold me
I'll be just fine because my blood keeps me warm
I'll keep breathing if I can't feel your skin against mine, I promise
I'll be just fine
If you won't be mine
The world screeches to a grinding halt and my heart breaks again
Everything pulsing
Everything Pulsing
My blood throbs behind my eyes
Skewing my vision
Shaking my foundations
A scream, was that my voice?
A vibrato of pain and an all-encompassing dark shroud of guilty pain
I welcome thee
M83 and another sober night
I reach for her knife, but my hand stills. Can I stop the flow for mere moments?
A semblance of normality would cheer my little shaking soul.
I want to appear as a white beast with dark auras, not a dead thing by the wayside
Grasping my quivering hand, can you feel the hate?
Good night to my soul, I put you to sleep before I frighten you with songs of death
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 7:31 AM UTC