If you’re not helping to solve the problem, you are the problem.

the tallest man on earth | let’s caramelize

I’ve seen the witches dance, I want to swing along
I’m like an Indian, been barefoot way too long
I’ll have ‘em all, yes, I’ll lie and I’ll deceive
I am forever just a thief 

(Source: prettylittlefawn)

1. I didn’t get selected for the literary magazine. (I know shocking).
2. And, I don’t think I will be writing on this blog anymore. If I do, it’s probably going to be something generic (i.e. something that happened that day, something that’s been on my mind). I think I’m going to be writing on a super secret blog that no one knows about. I can’t crank out a prose piece (let alone a good one) everyday. I don’t have the time nor the talent.
3. I’ve gathered quite a few followers along the way. That’s okay because about 95 percent of them don’t even know they are following me. True Story. So…I don’t think it matters what I do with this blog at this point.
4. I would ask what to do, but I would just get an echoless silence like always.
5. I don’t know what to do really.

“There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready.”
Maurice Sendak 

intergalactic-fever:

Condensation ran over her hand as she clutched her beer. Rolling down her finger, a bead of water rested on top of her knuckle. Like a cast away marooned on a deserted island. It was a stiff reminder that she was waiting. She hated bars, especially the one she was at. Giant flashing televisions and a wide eclectic blend of “popular” music. Not a place where she had any place of being.
     She turned in her stool to face away from the bar. Simultaneously crossing her legs like she has done many times before. She looked across the vast array of people. Friends. Couples. 
     The fluorescent lights casted an eerie green color. It gave her a headache. Or was that the music? Irrelevant. Some part of her wanted a guy to walk up to the bar. She would ask for a light. Like Lauren Bacall in To Have and Have Not. He would then precede to look her up and down and be enthralled in her freckles and her perfectly plucked eyebrows. Potentially sweeping her away from this dreary moment and captivate her in a deep conversation about nothing in particular. But then she realized that smoking wasn’t allowed indoors anymore. Plus, she didn’t even smoke.

June 2011

come tell me (acoustic) | amanda lee

This is one of my good friends Amanda. She is a singer/songwriter currently based in the Maryland/Virginia area. Having harmonies that are sweeter than the warm touch of a lover’s hand, her voice is as breathtaking as her looks. If you have a couple bucks to spare, I highly recommend you check out her EP album Go on iTunes. 

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Jab, hook, liver shot.

I like my women how I like my coffee: sweet, stimulating—and a touch of spice.

Not only have I never been in love, but I feel like I’m at the age where I don’t think I’m capable of loving anyone.

I don’t drink to suppress my emotions. I drink because I want to feel them.