mobwivez on snapchat, references available upon request.
June 2013
NAZIS ARE MY BIGGEST FEAR AND THE FACT THAT SOME OF THEM MAY BE QUIETLY LIVING IN THE MIDWEST WHERE THINGS ARE GOOD AND KIND IS REALLY FUCKING WITH ME
OKAY BYE
I wanna take a moment to recognize the people
whose dads were thrown from a cliff by their own brother and crushed to death by a stampede but still managed to come back as a ghost and give you advice on how you need to shape up and go toss your uncle to HIS death.
this is not a hypothetical question?
If you were a 21-year-old recent college graduate who could travel anywhere in the world so long as it was also accessible to a 74-year-old woman with a walker, where would you go?
Basically I just want you to tell me about the coolest places you’ve gone that involved exactly zero hiking.
you all think you want one direction school supplies, but let me just tell you that having your professor email you to ask “I’d like to keep your final project as an example, but would it be okay if I changed out the folder?” because you turned in a 10 page poetry analysis in a glossy 1D deal really changes your self-concept
FEELING: The one where you’ve built an idea about the future like an intricate origami creature inside your chest, and slowly or suddenly the possibilities turn into impossibilities and for hours or days there’s a rustling in your rib cage as the complex structure destroys itself, unfolding and flattening, unfolding and flattening pleat by pleat.
HOW TO EAT IT: Maybe just like an entire loaf of bread. Put butter on it. Put anything you can find on it.
catiedisabato replied to your post: is there a blog yet that just documents all the…
Yup! Sort of! It’s called “Buffy Outfits” !!! buffyoutfits.com The internet will never disappoint you
is there a blog yet that just documents all the pairs of overalls worn on buffy the vampire slayer?
honestly, internet, what even is the point of you?
I Have To Tell You
I have to tell you,
there are times when
the sun strikes me
like a gong,
and I remember everything,
even your ears.
Dorothea Grossman
Monday, Monday
The Mamas & The Papas
A few months ago, I called my mother on a Monday morning, hoping to catch her before work. It was loud on the other end though, like she had the radio blaring.
“It’s a record,” she told me. “Your brother picks one out every morning, and we listen to it while we get ready. Mondays are The Mamas & The Papas.”
And ever since then, on Monday morning, I find myself pulling up this song, if only because it makes me so happy to imagine the two of them in that house, being their own little family. Creating their own tiny rituals. Dancing in the kitchen for the first time in years.
