in the dark
getting a cup for water. there is something in my cup. i think it’s dirty. try to scratch it off. turn on the light. it was a spider, guys. a spider.
I write emails in the most depressing manner. I guess it gives it an air of professionalism. Periods and careful ellipses; semicolons and thoughtfully placed commas…
And what is up with people butting into Facebook wall posts and killing jokes! Just slaughtering them involuntarily until everyone has to back off silently from the scene of the crime. I wasn’t here… I never saw this… Nope. Let’s all take a vow of silence.
Goodbye.
I. Hate. Talking to people. Especially when they laugh boisterously after a simple sentence to make things lighthearted or not as awkward. It’s awkward as FUCK for me! And it happens all the time at work.
Person: So let’s get you started.
Me: Okay.
Person: Well, you’ll need a pen… HAHAHAHA!!
And I do nothing but stare back at them, stone faced, because I can’t force laughter. This seems to happen daily here. I can’t interact with these humans.
In the 19th Century having a photograph taken was a lengthy process. Frustrated by the difficulties of getting children to sit still long enough to snap a proper photo , photographers in the 1800’s conceived of a technique called “The Hidden Mother”. Draping a sheet over the mothers head in an attempt to camouflage her as a part of the furniture to better emphasize the child, the mother was then able to hold her infant and keep them still long enough for the camera to get an exposure. Vintage photographs already have a eerie feel to them, but these images of moms as cloaked phantoms take the creep factor to the next level.
Taken with Instagram at WooGak Restaurant
Tequila makes me salivate o_O (Taken with Instagram at Abuelo’s Mexican Food Embassy)
(Source: xisdeman)
his songs are nice, but i think he’s talking about something we’ll never know. it’s an experience he wanted to share only partially with the world. cathartic but selfish. well, not truly cathartic, so not entirely selfish.
so imagine two people void of everything but apathy. tired of bullshit, they both independently decide to cut off connection with the world for a short period of time. but during this time, they meet and develop a platonic attraction to each other because they are after the same thing: nothing. they get to know each other just for the hell of it. telling each other everything because who the fuck cares. they’ll keep it to themselves. there’s no one else to tell. they only have each other to keep company. your plan is my plan, my man.
but the closer to each other they get, and the darker the secrets get, the more they wonder how irrelevant the other’s past can be. secrets from yesterday start to sting. this is no longer strictly platonic. and in the end, they cling to each other, having effectively shut out the world. no longer for a period of time, but for as long as they are together. and the regret starts to build because the past of the other, that at one time didn’t matter, starts to affect them once they are in love. too bad.
i’ve asked about you, and they told me things, but my mind didn’t change; i still feel the same. i’ve had mine, you’ve had yours, we both know.
Morning
