I lay there, degraded. Self loathing. Eyes burning. My tongue taking up residence like an oversized slug in the rotting carcass of my mouth. And that sun. The relentless, warm, inviting, heinous, enemy sun.
All I could contemplate was crawling into the bathtub. Washing the shame and dryness off of me. Moisture by osmosis. Bloody Mary by room service. It had come to that: Bloody Marys for the vegetables, and bathtub for the sin.
Years of sketching, compiling, writing, ripping up, tearing up, laying down and self flagellation. Years of trying-to-explains and confinement. Years of hating his words, and bemoaning his lot. And then he finished. But the title eluded him. And it would take years still until he found one.
Inspiring: peanut butter and pickle hot dog. It brazenly flaunts its spirit and flavour, despite what THEY might say.
The animals didn’t think they were fairly represented in Orwell’s novel “Animal Farm.” They had interests more varied than politics. They particular brand of social dissention manifested differently - through online playlists, tumblr accounts and artisanal cheese plates.
People only get really interesting when they start to rattle the bars of their cages.
Alain de Botton
They had always had conversations about life mimicking art. It finally came down to making a date with destiny.
Of the four, one was by far the wisest. And perhaps this was why he always felt just a little different from the rest.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?
Asked by tumblrbot
A fork. Such promise!
No category of the absurd went unrepresented in the antique centre off highway 23.
For good, or for ill.
(via missykelley)
