May 2012
All day I’ve felt like a bad metaphor. The hammer of a revolver being notched back, a low-rumbling magma chamber, a viper hidden in the long grass. I’ve felt like something and nothing all at once.
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Anonymous asked: Where are you residing this summer?
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There are birds arguing outside, which is usually my cue to go to bed but I might just go drink some more vodka because fuck it, who the hell do I have to wake up for tomorrow? I can sleep for a thousand years if I want. I can go to bed forever, the outcome will still be the same. Here’s to infinite, dreamless sleep. Choke that one back, you bastards.
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Who wants drunk truths?
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Anonymous asked: Run away with me. We can break each other in the most beautiful ways.
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Anonymous asked: love you. you're awesome.
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a deadman reflects
He’d spent many years confusing love and sex, always finding one in place of the other. It was mostly just sex, he tried to hide from himself.
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Never trust the words of a drunk. Unless he’s published. Then his word is gospel.
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No Widows - The Antlers
Non-stop for the last...
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Anonymous asked: Did you find a job yet?
All right, brain, make a decision already: pissed off, depressed, bored, or caffeine-addled elation? Can’t be all four.
Highlights from the previous evening’s late-night-coffee-and-film-talk at the Vous:
‘Taking notes for a novel, Jared? Can you write a script for an eight-minute short in the next two weeks?’
‘And a three-act, twelve-minute short as well? Also in two weeks.’
‘Hey, remember that horror movie we shot a couple summers back? If there were absolutely no...
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Anonymous asked: Write something for mothers day.
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fuck
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I had to run and I had to burn miles like bad oil and I had to lift heavy objects and I had to curl against myself until the tendons and sinew threatened to snap and I had to do these things to sweat out the toxins and I felt it, like dirty runoff in the gutters of March, but these poisons were only from the night before and not the rest of the vitriolic stuff in the pit of my stomach, and...
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Has anyone made a Drinko de Mayo joke yet? Because I call it. Otherwise no one will know what I’m doing tonight unless I awkwardly shoehorn in a bunch of unnecessary words. Words like tequila and to-kill-ya and I’m drinking on Cinco de Mayo.
Anyway, please put the pathos on hold until tomorrow morning.
Sad, drunk thoughts are still sad thoughts.
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Avengers!
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I believe that, at the end of summer, I’m going to run away.
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The end of days came while we fumbled at each other’s shirt in the dark of your family’s rec room. We laid across that couch, the one with the cigarette burns and mystery stains and cushions like fuzzy pumice. Your skin was milky from the television, Sanford and his son muted and gesticulating. From down the hall your mother snored. You told me not to worry and grabbed at my chest....
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April 2012
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I’m at my best when I’m siring destruction in my wake. I’m my most human when someone else gets hurt.