February 2012
Remember that time when
I had friends in college and loved it?
No, that never happened.
But now it is and I’m not going to rub it in your face, but I’m going to at least put it in front of your head so that you might perhaps rub your nose across it.
I’m finally the H word. In college.
I’m not actually saying it, there’s no (real) wood nearby for me to knock on.
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Accidentally fell in love with a fictional...
Soon, I’m going to add “unicorn rider” to my resume and then hit up the rap scene under my new stage name Double D Moneyb!tch.
Hey, you asked what I was up to.
"I had a really terrible dream and in it, you were...
Oh, thank God you’re here, talking to me. Because I dreamed that you died and
No.
Hello? Oh. I just needed to hear your voice. Now I know you’re fine. Goodbye.
—
When I was little, I used to have recurring nightmares that my mother died. Just as every young child does, they think that their childhood is “the worst” and their parents are “the most...
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If you did not wake up with
“All my girls at the party, look at that body, shakin’ that thing like I never did see” stuck in your head, either you have a better taste in music or you’re aware it’s not 2k1 anymore.
Either way, I pity you.
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I have been known to read aloud Tumblr posts off...
and my roommate has been known to respond back with “Why are there so many miserable people on Tumblr?”
I have no better answer than “We spend so much time on Tumblr because we have no friends and thus hate everyone.”
I don’t think I need a better one.
Just in case you need another reason to think I am...
today when I was walking to modern fiction, I was looking down at my feet as I was walking and happened to see the shadow of a bike approaching my shoes.
I looked up and jumped, expecting an impact. I actually braced myself, closing my eyes and wincing.
Until I realized that the bike was actually ten feet away from me.
And shadows can’t run you over.
I’m bringing a whole new...
After a series of fucked up dreams that would...
I decided to go get dinner.
Over at the pasta bar, my eyes were met with the most glorious sight of macaroni and cheese. The dining hall almost never has mac and cheese! This was a momentous occasion! Some might even say “a momentous moment.”
I grabbed a bowl full of it — the label suspiciously said “homemade” macaroni and cheese, in quotation marks — and was...
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magknowlia:
Today in class, Danielle put on chapstick so I leaned over and said “Stop it, you’re turning me on.”
We laughed.
I was still smiling after the fact dreamily up at my professor as he spoke, thinking of how hilarious I am.
He stopped talking. Must have asked a question. I was still smiling.
Then he started smiling.
I smiled bigger thinking of how great it was that we were both...
Life before the internet as we know it must have...
What did people do when they saw an actor they knew they’d seen before but didn’t know where?
If they wanted to know the name of a song but only had a line irrelevant to the title?
If they wanted to pander to their chicks popping balloon fetishes?
Life must have really sucked.
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My definition of an addiction
stems directly from Super Size Me. That guy kept going to the doctor regularly while eating his McDonald’s every day because God, if he didn’t, I sure hope he was a donor because his blood could have probably been used in the fryolators.
There was one point when he went to the doctor’s office and it wasn’t because anything weird was happening — except for the fact...
Today was laundry day
and as I was tugging my laundry basket down the stairs and to the basement laundry room, I had to prepare myself to have a free hand to open the door coming out of the stairwell.
I stopped at the bottom, collecting the two handles in one hand, then put my free right hand on the doorknob.
Of course, this happened to be during my...
During my short time of watching the Super Bowl...
If you are unclear what the commercial is about, do not fret. It is probably most definitely a car commercial.
This commercial would have been a perfect appeal of weight loss for me since I can relate more to “I want to be able to fit through the door and that would make me feel better about myself” rather than “I want to be a hot commodity so I may be perfect masturbatory...
“Self-Portrait At 28
I know it’s a bad title
but I’m giving it to...”
– David Berman
I want people to read this so I am forcing it down your throat, even though I know you don’t even read the things I write that are this long.
I still want it here.
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I have to pee.
Which means I’d have to leave the room to go do that. But that also means to leave the room, I’d have to put on pants.
This is quite a predicament. I’ll make a pros and cons chart.
Pro:
my bladder will feel more comfortable
…
?
Cons:
I have to put the effort into putting pants on.
I will then be uncomfortable.
Getting up also means I’d have to walk across the...
Guys, guys, guys.
YOU GUYS.
I just left my creative writing class and oh my God I forgot how amazing it feels to read something straight from your frickin’ heart.
It was so scary.
But in this really awesome way. Like the twigs were cracking as I came off that weird tree I climbed up and decided socialization wasn’t a thing I could do with people. There is this complete and utter honesty about writing...
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"I have to ask; as an English major,
do you ever find yourself analyzing certain aspects of your life, thinking that it all has to add up to something bigger — that everything has a reason and it’s all supposed to fit in this neat, little box?”
She smiled as I was speaking, so I knew words of agreement were coming. It wasn’t one of complete joy, though; it was wry. Her mouth had a story to tell.
“All...
If your poem does not feature any of the following...
death
love
some old lover you never got over. So I guess…the death of love.
I think it might be because the first poem I ever really found myself not wanting to figuratively rip out of my book, fold into a paper airplane, and throw directly into a paper shredder was “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allen Poe. That one’s got all three!
I remember when we read it in our seventh...
If you're trying to respond to a message
that may or may not change the course of your life and the lights start flickering, that’s a sign you take note of. I don’t care how superstitious you are or aren’t, if some crazy voodoo shit be happening, you cut the shit and think twice.
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I'm thinking of opening up a hotline service
in which I answer simple questions I have to Google the answers to. I’m thinkin’ it would be really good for my self-esteem.
My twelve year old nephew just called me while I was in the middle of reading a film review on the sexual allegory of a 1930’s film to ask how to add Word Art to a PowerPoint.
I sat on my bed, highlighter in my mouth, ceasing my reading on phallic imagery...
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I often conduct conversations with people who are...
Haruna: [comes in room in a hurry] Can you read me your poem?
Me: You didn't respond to my text. I thought you were dead. Or lazy. Or both.
Haruna: Yeah, it was definitely dead. But I'm here. Read it! I've gotta pack up some stuff and go.
Me: Arite. [reads]
Haruna: A-HA! You did use the alcohol metaphor you were talking about earlier! I told you that would be good.
Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Haruna: I REALLY liked that one. Can you e-mail it to me? I want you to keep a folder of the stuff you write that I like and put it in a book of stuff so I can one day say I breathed the same air as you.
Me: Can do.
Haruna: I gotta go now, though. I'll see you later! [walks out of room, down the hall] OH AND POST IT ON TUMBLR.
Me: NO! FEELINGS DON'T BELONG THERE.
Haruna: FINE! SEE YOU AT DINNER.
“I don’t know who lives in there, but I bumped into her in the hallway and...”
– a few choice things the boy next-door could be saying about me.
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Problems you would be reading about if my roommate...
“My roommate just sent me a text asking me if I was coming back to the room tonight because she wants me to read her poem and tell her if it’s any good. I bet she still has that Eurythmics song on repeat. WHY DOES SHE THINK I LEAVE THE ROOM SO OFTEN IN THE FIRST PLACE?”
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reginamoran replied to your post: WRITING POEMS IS SO HARRRRRD
yo that sounds like a dope poem.
kathrynosh replied to your post: WRITING POEMS IS SO HARRRRRD
I feel like all introspective alcoholics are probably thinking that though, look at you, voice of the people!
Even in alcoholism, my followers will love me.
WRITING POEMS IS SO HARRRRRD
(when you don’t take any of your feelings seriously)
Every poem comes out the same and then I’m like “Yo this is too touchy feely, this sucks.”
WHICH MEANS I’M ASHAMED OF MY OWN FEELINGS ON ANOTHER LEVEL!!!
Or just that I’m a bad poet who has lines like “Why do they give drunk people shot glasses / When they know they’re just going to break...