I hate the phrase “magical realism” more than anything. It’s the worst. But there’s this moment in One Hundred Years of Solitude when the blood makes a left. I just remember my jaw dropping. I don’t remember how it goes exactly. There’s like a dude on the courthouse steps or something and he gets shot and he falls down and blood starts pouring out of his chest and pooling up around him and then it starts streaming down the courthouse steps one by one until it’s coming down onto the sidewalk and then the blood keeps pouring out over the curb and into the street and then the blood makes a left. It makes a 90 degree left turn and starts pouring down the street and then it makes a right and goes up a hill and then makes another left and then in a stream it flows right up to the front door of the woman who is the mother of the man who has been shot and she sees the blood and knows she’s lost her son and that this is his blood and she starts weeping.
I don’t know if I’ve told that right or if that sounds lame or something but it really isn’t lame. It is such a bizarre funny tragic wonderful awful moment—the blood going to find the mother so that she can start grieving for her murdered son.
I know lots of people love Gabriel Garcia Marquez and I’m sure that other people feel the way I do, that whether he knew it or not, he was my friend, that he was someone I loved extra. That he was mine somehow.
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.
I don’t trust a wooden cutting board.
It’s supposed to guard against too much cutting, right? But what the fuck is this piece of wood gonna do about it? It wasn’t always that shape! It didn’t come down off the tree like that. That wooden cutting board has been cut already!
I like a glass cutting board. I don’t know how they make glass but I imagine they cut the glass cutting board while it’s still glass goo or something. I like that. Now that the glass isn’t goo, you can trust it.
Do you guys think about this stuff too? For the record, I don’t even use cutting boards like ever. But if I did, it wouldn’t be a wooden one.
My mom reads my twitter. She just suggested I tweet more often and be funnier.
My schedule is as open as my relationship with my wife!
kissing is all fun and games until a boy inhales your skeleton through your mouth & uses it to build a house for some other girl
I had a dream it was my birthday and I was pumped for some awesome birthday stuff to happen. When I woke up it was not my birthday and I was sort of shocked at the idea that I’d been so happy about a birthday anyway. It’s like I don’t even know who dream me is anymore. Fuck birthdays.
This is probably a weird one, but, man, shout out to all the people on tumblr I love so much but don’t know how to talk to. Y’all got people like that? Just, fucking, everyday, I’m like this person is so funny and smart and cool and beautiful and has so much integrity—they just have the fucking magic.
What do they get from me? I admire them everyday. What do they get from me?
Every 18 to 24 months I’ll send them a message: Yo, you rule!
That’s it. That’s all I have. You’re a masterpiece and I can barely clap.
Better a good fight than an okay relationship, right? I’ve got former friends and former girlfriends (I almost said former lovers) who the best thing about is that we blew it up instead of fading out. I think you really do honor to a thing by leaving while it’s still alive instead of waiting for it to die, you know?
So good at cooking french fries that it’s actually a little sad.
"that’s all he has" people whisper as they walk away, shaking their heads, smelling the crisp golden deliciousness…
It’s kind of amazing that anybody who isn’t in your family or one of your coworkers even knows your name. Why should they? It’s crazy. It’s very nice of anyone to learn your name or remember what you look like or remember some facts about you or if they’re alone with you, it’s amazing they don’t bash your skull in and steal your money. People are much nicer than they have to be. It’s lovely.
I’m so into hot dogs lately. They’re so good!
This is a thing I wrote about the use of quotation marks in fiction.
I’d be honored if you read it or pretended you did. Thanks!
I swear to god the only thing that has ever made me think that maybe someday I’ll want to be a parent is seeing the parents in the movie Easy A.
Is that weird?