February 2010
20 posts
A Game for Two
Cold numbed the tip of her ass outside the reach of the heat to release tension people were fucking pressed together for a kiss they would never finish. People were always blaming her they were just jealous Nobody ever really loved a lover. She liked their white bed, From the outside it looked like death.
An arrangement of words stolen from pg. 3 of the novel “Paint it Black” by...
“…if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the...”
– Stephen King
“She understood that her heart operated on its own instructions, that she had no...”
– Jeffrey Eugenides
"But sitting there with all of these people...
Gold. For the longest I couldn’t quite put into words why the act of pitching was so irksome to me, so thank you Guinevere Turner, thank you very much.
My mother was an Olympic gymnast trainer →
Why Taylor Swift Offends Little Monsters,... →
Gold. I like Taylor Swift, and my itunes is graced with the presence of a few of her songs, but this article is filled with little gems too on point to ignore, such as this —
“If Swift’s work connects with teenage girls, it does so on the most simplistic, reductive territory of all: pining for boys, walking in the rain, kissing in the rain, crying drops of tears on her guitar, driving...
All the Sad Young Virgins
His hand on her knee. Suddenly, she had to go. Why were they going so slow? Careful Silence. It had been five days since he’d said. good fucking riddance.
An arrangement of words stolen from pg. 6 of the novel “Paint it Black” by Janet Fitch with original punctuation and capitalization intact.
“I’m a study of a man in chaos in search of frenzy.”
– Oscar Levant
Ghosts
a glass of milk standing up at the sink. cutout hearts light from the kitchen window pouring over her. white on white in the colorless light snowflakes “What happened?” All she heard was the roar of blood in her ears.
An arrangement of words stolen from pg. 9 of the novel “Paint it Black” by Janet Fitch with original punctuation and capitalization intact.
He did this thing, this thing that was infuriating and magic all at the same time. He cared. Enough for the both of them. Because god knows she couldn’t. Or a better word is wouldn’t. She wouldn’t care. She hadn’t for along time, and she became comfortable. Being alone had become comfortable. And there were so many excuses that made it easy to stay comfortable. So many...
