January 2011
eehhhhh shush baby don’t worry I’ll slip ya the sausage just make sure the jello shots are arranged in a triangle shape — A TRIANGLE SHAPE! TRIANGLES YOU BITCH! — and then everything’s perfect, mmmhmm
December 2010
“Look, Simon, I just made love to your mother half an hour ago and I’m...”
– Henry Fool
operating parameters -- via Henry Fool
Henry Fool: We gotta talk. [pause] What the hell were you trying to do when you wrote this thing?
Simon: Nothing.
Henry Fool: Well, you know, you wrote it in a kind of iambic pentameter.
Simon: Iambic what?
Henry Fool: Verse. Look. In my opinion, this is pretty powerful stuff. Though your spelling is Neanderthal and your reasoning a little naive, your instincts are profound. But the whole thing needs to be given a more cohesive shape. It can be expanded, followed through, unified. Do you see what I'm getting at? Are you willing to commit yourself to this? To really work on it? To give it its due in the face of adversity and discouragement? To rise to the challenge you yourself have set? And don't give me that wonderstruck "I'm only a humble garbage man" bullshit, either.
Simon: It hurts to breathe.
Henry Fool: Of course it does.
“The details of my exploits are only a pretext for a far more expansive...”
– Henry Fool
2010 A RETROSPECTIVE
What the hell WAS up with 2010, exactly?
To be fair, 2010 started excellently, or with a bang you could say; on New Years itself I was having sex with one of the three most beautiful women I’ve ever met (and believe you me I’ve met some goddamn beautiful dames) out on the piers and after years of lusting after her and being rejected for being a degenerate douchebag, that was pretty...
my dreams
have seriously gone off the rails into this bizarre, existential, break me down, kick my self-esteem in the heart and my desire to accomplish right in the balls, offensively disaffected sort of dialogue.
SERIOUSLY BRAIN LET’S GO BACK TO DREAMING ABOUT THE FRENCH FOREIGN LEGION OR SEX OR THAT WEIRD STUFF WITH THE MAZE
“You are fucking obnoxious. But I love the suit. Pretty suave.”
– random girl, but pretty much could be any goddamn girl at this point
“Listen pal, you can’t waltz in here, use my toaster, and start spouting...”
– Surviving Desire
2 tags
mrs-bro "awww don’t feel ronry i miss you...
mrsbro-:
vaccerelli:
TOOOORIE COME BACK SO THERE IS DRINKING AND SHOUTING
why always the shouting
BECAUSE YOU MAKE ME WANT TO SHOUT <3<3
mrs-bro "awww don’t feel ronry i miss you...
TOOOORIE COME BACK SO THERE IS DRINKING AND SHOUTING
“Do you think I’m very beautiful? If you never see me again after tonight,...”
– Surviving Desire
watching Surviving Desire
because if I’m feeling lonely and mildly bitter, of course, the answer is to watch a movie that has a savage, almost unparalleled honesty about infatuation and love and sex.
it’s a great movie, though. strange, but great.
so I got propositioned to be in a BDSM...
Randomly.
Who does that?
I mean, yeah, I’m standing around looking surly with a drink (it’s what I do, folks) and this broad starts talking to me. Not precisely easy on the eyes, but not exactly painful, so I’m like whatever, I can kill some minutes and then bam, she lays on me that she’s looking for some sort of complicated sadomasochistic relationship and I’m...
“It’s beautiful here and I never want to leave, though — fuck — I’m going, anyway.”
I said to the conquerer at my door I met god every morning I kissed my wife goodbye I went to war and here we are I said to the conquerer at my door if I had the chance to do it again I’d try to stand a little taller.
"God's gonna cut you down"
said the angel, sitting at the bar. His flaming sword was leaning heavily against the banister, sizzling blood sliding down it in unguarded streams.
“It’s a fact,” said the angel — his face all angles and beauty, “that God will cut you down. The entire human race isn’t worthwhile, after all, that’s why we’ve come back. The flame and the sword and...
When I spoke the invisible language of dogs, I understood why they smell everything — tiny civilizations live in the air, drifting on the current of the wind and harvesting aromas. They congregated in channels and rivers of scent, living in whirlwinds and eventually dying in the millions as they were inhaled and undone by larger beings who knew next to nothing of a kind so little. These tiny...
I swear to god for every interesting tumblr I stumble across just a-wandering it’s like there’s fifty that are a bunch of brightly backlit pictures of vaguely hipster-ish people standing around in nature or decrepit warehouses looking confused or horny
travels and travails
you know, I know when I started writing. I was fifteen and I had some ideas for some dialogue so I wrote some…half-script, half-monologued exchanges between two guys, Jason and Flynn. They were nonentities at the time and the structure was basically the same as Eternal Curse (which I hadn’t read at the time, but I didn’t think I was being original) and it was just a bunch of...
NEW THEME ZOMG IT'S LITERARY AND SHIT
AND YOU CAN REPLY NOW AND OH MY GOD AND STUFF AND THERE’S BUTTONS AND SHIT AND LOOK AT THAT OOOOOH IT’S SHINY MOTHERFUCKER IT’S MOTHERFUCKING SHIIIINNYYYYY
plultra asked: Oh right, some of us might be comin' up to SF tomorrow or something. I think. Wait, was I the one who was supposed to organize this? DAMN IT, I yell "RIOT" in tense, agitated crowds. I don't organize social rendezvous!
plultra asked: Oh right, some of us might be comin' up to SF tomorrow or something. I think. Wait, was I the one who was supposed to organize this? DAMN IT, I yell "RIOT" in tense, agitated crowds. I don't organize social rendezvous!
plultra asked: What you need is a "Tenderloin" theme.
plultra asked: What you need is a "Tenderloin" theme.
plultra asked: Whoa, new layout. Wasn't really a question. Shiny.
plultra asked: Whoa, new layout. Wasn't really a question. Shiny.
Having sent the cannibals and accountants to fetch my mistress, I shall now wear sleeves of gossamer and mithril, filigreed in hollywood failures. The brutal tears of violated starlets were soaked into the colors of my robe, for I am the Emperor Progress of the Naive. Where towers once sat, now sit letters of my name, forest plowed under pavement for my gnashing, nasty teeth. I eat girls and my...
thalliumtea-deactivated20110317 asked: shit I leave for a few days, come back, and find this awful awful theme going on here
for shame, vaccerelli, for shame.
for shame, vaccerelli, for shame.
welcome to the east brother, where you blood shifts around in your veins and you don’t know what flavors are. blue can only float, after all — the rockets demand it so. I can see you are escalators, so if we have becoming, the great coming is down. this is the east, after all. when you touch, be sure not to fly, for the flinging can come from such distances, built in peppers and pots...
thalliumtea-deactivated20110317 asked: shit I leave for a few days, come back, and find this awful awful theme going on here
for shame, vaccerelli, for shame.
for shame, vaccerelli, for shame.
I Ever Tell You Cats And Kittens About The...
You know, I’ve always wondered why it’s my stories where I’m violent, impulsive, and make a future-damagingly stupid decision that women like the best — but then those are also the stories where I stood up for something, so maybe it’s a bit simpler than I ever thought.
callmequell asked: GODDAMNIT VACCCERRRRELLLLLI
callmequell asked: GODDAMNIT VACCCERRRRELLLLLI
callmequell asked: HAVEN'T YOU HEARD I LIKE GIRLS NOW
GIRLS IN BANDS
WITH CATS
AND GLASSES
HINT HINT
GIRLS IN BANDS
WITH CATS
AND GLASSES
HINT HINT
callmequell asked: HAVEN'T YOU HEARD I LIKE GIRLS NOW
GIRLS IN BANDS
WITH CATS
AND GLASSES
HINT HINT
GIRLS IN BANDS
WITH CATS
AND GLASSES
HINT HINT
callmequell asked: LESBIAN GLASSES-WEARING GIRLS BAND WHO SING ABOUT THEIR CATS
NAME AND NUMBERS, STAT.
NAME AND NUMBERS, STAT.
“You’re great, but I would bite your dick off if we were dating. Quote me...”
– Meg the Megnificent
callmequell asked: LESBIAN GLASSES-WEARING GIRLS BAND WHO SING ABOUT THEIR CATS
NAME AND NUMBERS, STAT.
NAME AND NUMBERS, STAT.
See, there was once this tall girl in a polka dot bra who wrote a poem about the sun, but no one cared about her poetry. Everyone loved her poetry. We watched the sun come up together and I spent an hour describing the uses of the word “infection” to her, romantically. She told me her father wanted to be a drunk wizard and her mother was a flock of brilliant talking birds. Her mother...
Sometimes I remember what it was like to actually like a girl — what it was like to actually have a thing for someone that was more than a hard-on and more than a grope in the dark, but then the day came where everyone I wanted already had a man or a boy, and everyone who didn’t have a man wanted something different than me. So I go out, and I meet people, and all sorts of things...
