it's all very confessional.
As 2013 draws to a close, MC is preparing to graduate, I’m preparing to go back to school, the holidays draw ever apace, and I find myself thinking these thoughts:
-Have my tits always been this big?
-When did we buy apricot jelly?
-Should I bake cookies for the neighbs?
-If I had written the Polar Express, that main character kid would have never made it on the train. God, was he a waste of animation.
-Spaghetti or curry thai for dinner tomorrow?
Ah, the holidays. It does make one thoughtful.
see that and write about it: all the thing i’ve wanted to be
which is to say
and beautiful not like the self-pitying anthemic chord progression
simply up the scale
but beautiful like this feeling of blue and thick sweaters that’s been able
to wrap you up
when you least expect it
when you look through
if being the collector of things doesn’t make you
than the definition holds no gravity.
i think i was always more in love with the things i couldn’t be
than the idea that
man, i just can’t wait for the person who triggers dopamine and oxytocin in my brain to come home.
fyi ‘satire’ isn’t just ‘hyperbolic exaggeration of the same shit we usually see with a disclaimer that it’s different.’ There actually has to be, like, an element of condemnation in its thesis.
It’s not ironic if it actively celebrates what it’s condemning.
just wanted to put that out there
for the commentary.
W H O O P S