I wish that popped collars were still cooler, because it would make covering up hickeys way easier. Not that I’ve ever seen a girl before, just planning for the future.
I think reading Moby Dick with Winslow Homer would be way too fucking intense.
If you are driving at or below the speed limit, you have ceded any former privileges to the left lane. I think speeding tickets are anachronistic. They should work like mental institutions: if you’re driving way too fast, everyone will notice; if you’re just trying to get somewhere at 10 mph over the limit, you shouldn’t be penalized for being a good driver.
Because I always feel like running
Not away, because there is no such place
Because if there was, I would have found it by now
Because it’s easier to run,
Easier than staying and finding out you’re the only one who didn’t run
Because running will be the way your life and mine will be described,
As in “the long run”
Or as in having “given someone a run for his money”
Or as in “running out of time”
Because running makes me look like everyone else, though I hope there will ever be cause for that
Because I will be running in the other direction, not running for cover
Because if I knew where cover was, I would stay there and never have to run for it
Not running for my life, because I have to be running for something of more value to be running and not in fear
Because the thing I fear cannot be escaped, eluded, avoided, hidden from, protected from, gotten away from,
Not without showing the fear as I see it now
Because closer, clearer, no sir, nearer
Because of you and because of that nice
That you quietly, quickly be causing
And because you’re going to see me run soon and because you’re going to know why I’m running then
You’ll know then
Because I’m not going to tell you now” (via Gil Scott-Heron)
I miss pencils.
I wonder how much glass was wasted on the takeout windows that McDonald’s restaurants don’t use. They’re trying to update McDonald’s restaurants so they become hangout destinations. The homeless are already there, McDonald’s, you don’t need to change for them. And non-homeless people have other places to go: a.k.a. anywhere.
I wish my life was narrated by the This American Life staff. I also wish Lady Gaga was always around to call my decisions “fabulous.”
High schoolers seem to love to talk to me when they’re intoxicated. I think that would’ve been cool when I was 17, but unfortunately it’s only going to get weirder from here.
What wouldn’t I give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds. (via David Mitchell)
