Having Overcome Seasickness, And Having Found My Sea Legs, I Now Take Great Pleasure In Climbing To The

I think tumblr proves you dont need substance, but tits, even tits you’re never gonna touch, sell super, super well...how, cartoony.

You’re all fucked and overrated, i think I’m gonna be sick and it’s your fault.

an observation on the sexes by no one, IE me.  Women appear to be small children always, always needing validation, attention, affirmation they are alive via pretty nailpolish and well groomed hair, what have you, however when one is to observe this, they are reprehensible, terrible people, and are surely just sexist. 

Women dont lead the statistics in cutting and bulimia because men demand that of them, thats their own fuckin looney minds at work, and i refuse to be the scapegoat for womens fuckin hysteria, both sexes are damaged, your sex is just damaged in a very vocal fuckin, look at me sort of way...charming.

Here’s a fairly gay song to prove a point.  The most beautiful languages in human history are as follows:

1.) Irish Gaelic

2.) Russian

3.) Japanese

French is so far down the list to me I think none of you get languages, italian too, ending every word with A or O makes it flow sure, but that doesnt mean its a pretty language, you’ve been brainwashed by movies.

https://www.youtube.com/embed/U2bMIvY3twI

If you have any deductive power you will know, A.) I AM a rap fan, and B.) 90% of rap is just, total shit.  When I took poetic verse in school we learned different formats for rhyming most rap A rhymes with B and sometimes C is thrown in, so you get blahblah blah A, blah blahblah B, C A B C C, if you can follow all that.

Much like Reggae, Funk or Blues rap is very formulaic, but this is a man who not only has something to actually say but does it in a format entirely his own.  Does he have better songs, absolutely, does this song prove the point, definitely.  Ladies and Gentleman if you dont know that DOOM’s nervous large you don’t know rap.  I’ll put money on it, interview any rapper worth a fuck and he will tell you he’s a DOOM fan. 

Dream Journal

Last night I dreamt that I was trying to create matter and life, I’m not sure if I was rebuilding the Earth because it was destroyed, if I was god, or what.  I was in a place filled with bags of powdered material, which I had to combine with water to make different things.  Like, for example I had a bag of cow meat dust, and a bag of bone dust, and I would measure these out and mix with water and shape to recreate a cow.

Your guess is as good as mine.

Clay, did you ever love me?" I'm studying a billboard and say that I didn't hear what she said. "I asked if you ever loved me?" On the terrace the sun bursts into my eyes and for one blinding moment I see myself clearly. I remember the first time we made love, in the house in Palm Springs, her body tan and wet, lying against cool, white sheets. "Don't do this, Blair," I tell her. "Just tell me." I don't say anything. "Is it such a hard question to answer?" I look at her straight on. "Yes or no?" "Why?" "Damnit, Clay," she sighs. "Yeah, sure, I guess." "Don't lie to me." "What in the fuck do you want to hear?" "Just tell me," she says, her voice rising. "No," I almost shout. "I never did." I almost start to laugh. She draws in a breath and says, "Thank you. That's all I wanted to know." She sips her wine. "Did you ever love me?" I ask her back, though by now I can't even care. She pauses. "I thought about it and yeah, I did once. I mean I really did. Everything was all right for a while. You were kind." She looks down and then goes on. "But it was like you weren't there. Oh shit, this isn't going to make any sense." She stops. I look at her, waiting for her to go on, looking up at the billboard. Disappear Here. "I don't know if any other person I've been with has been really there, either ... but at least they tried." I finger the menu; put the cigarette out. "You never did. Other people made an effort and you just ... It was just beyond you." She takes another sip of her wine. "You were never there. I felt sorry for you for a little while, but then I found it hard to. You're a beautiful boy, Clay, but that's about it." I watch the cars pass by on Sunset. "It's hard to feel sorry for someone who doesn't care." "Yeah?" I ask. "What do you care about? What makes you happy?" "Nothing. Nothing makes me happy. I like nothing," I tell her. "Did you ever care about me, Clay?" I don't say anything, look back at the menu. "Did you ever care about me?" she asks again. "I don't want to care. If I care about things, it'll just be worse, it'll just be another thing to worry about. It's less painful if I don't care." "I cared about you for a little while." I don't say anything. She takes off her sunglasses and finally says, "I'll see you later, Clay." She gets up. "Where are you going?" I suddenly don't want to leave Blair here. I almost want to take her back with me. "Have to meet someone for lunch." "But what about us?" "What about us?" She stands there for a moment, waiting. I keep staring at the billboard until it begins to blur and when my vision becomes clearer I watch as Blair's car glides out of the parking lot and becomes lost in the haze of traffic on Sunset. The waiter comes over and asks, "Is everything okay, sir?" I look up and put my sunglasses on and try to smile. "Yeah.

Bret Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

Jesus follow one meth barbie here and all they suggest is meth barbies, we get it, mommy didnt love you or daddy/uncle touched you when you were a kid, and now you smoke meth, and when you’re done smoking meth, you post pics of other people smoking meth, and thats just, as deep as your little pea brain goes.  How, stimulating.