my mum just came in and took the box that my iPhone came in and said “I gotta keep this box so I can put googley eyes on it and trick someone into thinking I got them an iPad”
"mum you already did that to james last year by just sticking googley eyes to a maxi pad and wrapping it"
"i’m gonna go" mum says, shutting my door
she reopens the door to whisper “to get my google eyes”
I love blankets and netflix and slippers and this song that janall just sent me ‘cause it’s our song and my group of hilarious screwball soulmate friends, I feel like I won the friendship lottery with how many fucking funny friends I have had the pleasure of keeping in my life for so many years, I feel like I’m always laughing
The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.
"this motherfucker, I met her when I was in kindergarden and she wanted me to play this game with her where we would hide in the coatroom during recess and try not to get caught because we were supposed to be outside." I’m telling our new friend Shane as we stand in the front row of the show waiting for her to get back from the washroom.
"We grew up together and she’s like family to me. Sometimes I think I woulda been this shy version of myself without her because she taught me that you don’t let a situation be boring, you don’t let the people around you be boring, you just make them have fun. We always made friends with everyone, everywhere we went because of her. And now I’m like that too, and I love that about myself so I always thank her for helping shape who I am.”
"Wow," he smiles at me, "That sounds like the kind of friend you’ve gotta hang onto,"
"I don’t need to hang onto her," I declare, "I already know she’s gonna be mine for life."
- planning shit out. I end up staying up so late every night because I’m so obsessed with making lists of things to pack for trips, making shopping lists for groceries and things to replace that I’m running out of, how to budget my next month, what treatments to do to my hair and when, how I’m going to transit between places… it’s a genuine hobby, like I’m actually that lame
- listening to music in strange ways. a) I listen to every song TO THE VERY END when I’m alone and I take it very seriously. I feel like I’m neglecting the song as a work of art when I cut a song short to change it, which is COMPLETELY bizarre and I’m aware of it because some of these songs I listen to every day and could tell you every lyric, every peak and drop, every sigh and breath. Nevertheless, you will find me, every day of my life, waiting til the very last second of every song on every Bright Eyes album even though I’ve done it for years..which brings me to b) I literally NEVER get sick of a song. I have had songs sit on my “top 25 most played” for years. There are songs I listen to obsessively even though I discovered them at 13, ten years ago. Sometimes I’ll just play one song, over and over, all day or night long.
- talking about the possibilty of aliens/ imagining what the intense robots of the future will be like/getting excited about how freakin sweet and mysterious the universe is and how totally amazing the big bang must have been like whhhattt, what a beautiful disaster science rules
- Sanchos. This is not legitimately a lame obsession because I don’t actually think it’s lame. I think it’s really cool. But I know that’s what makes it lame. I’ll just leave this here to explain if you don’t know my homeboy sanchos: http://instagram.com/murdoctopus
so yep, this has been another installment of Kathleen is Self-Absorbed and Why Does Anyone Care? but you know sometimes you just write something because you hope that someone goes “hey, me too.”
Michael Claude came in 1st place with a score of 55.6 on February 17th at the Vancouver Poetry Slam. This is Michael Claude’s poem Autistic
this is amazing
It’s the same thing with interviews. It’s like I’m supposed to give people a fucking free pass because there’s a camera on. I’m like, ‘Hi, I’m a human being, I’m an artist, I’m a person. What you’re asking me is bullshit, and if we were in a bar in New York, I would knock your teeth out.’
Working hard for something we don’t care about is called stress; working hard for something we love is called passion.
Just because you kissed
someone with scars
doesn’t make you