I worry that everyone else at this McDonalds thinks I look like I really belong here.
LOL, do you know how fucking bizarre and funny an exchange like this is to someone like me who has never read any of the Harry Potter books or seen any of the movies?
It sounds like some kind of bizarrely organized nonsense debate!
Maybe none of you will get what I mean because you will actually understand the weird Harry Potter words, but just trust me.
This is the first page in Jewel’s book of poetry.
I just rolled my eyes so hard I think my optic nerve burst into flames. The pain is indescribable and all I can see now is wildly intense streaks of orange and red. I can smell the thick bloody smoke gathering behind my eyes.It hurts so much. I’m in agony! This is all Jewel’s fault.
Sometimes I imagine this stern inspector named Thomas who will just show up unannounced and log into your email account so he can go through your “sent” folder one email at a time.
He’s a white guy, mid to late 30s, and he has that vaguely liberal upper middle class habit of only ever trying to smile at you when he thinks you’re being stupid and embarrassing yourself.
He sighs loudly as he reviews your last six outgoing text messages.
"You’re doing everything wrong," he says while sipping tea, sounding both sarcastic and urgent. "Everything!"
"For this crew, nostalgia is like seasickness: only the hope of dying from it is keeping them alive."
When Kafka visited Paris in 1911, he arrived about three weeks after the Mona Lisa had been stolen from the Louvre in broad daylight. When Kafka arrived he immediately joined the massive crowds who waited in long lines to see the empty space where the painting had been.
Sometimes I don’t post stuff I’m thinking about on tumblr because I’m afraid it will come across as too “high school thoughtful.” You know what I mean? Like, that pseudo-thoughtful shit—what if my color red is different than your color red type shit. Or like I think one of the scariest things about adult life has to do with how serious your shit is to you and how difficult it is for your friends to really care. I mean people care what happens to you. But there’s a pretty big gap between a friend telling me he just quit his job and needs to figure out how to pay his bills now—and ME quitting MY job and needing to figure out how I’m going to pay my bills. Maybe this is just one of those high school thoughtful bullshit things but to me the loneliest thing in the world is thinking about the gap between the experiences of, say, having one of my parents die and having one of my friend’s tell me one of their parents died. That gap makes me sad. I don’t know. Maybe romantic relationships can close that gap a bit?