I’m kind of amazed at how great Broad City is (in that Workaholics genius-through-stupidity-through-genius fashion), especially compared to it’s modern counterparts. Plus, what a great theme song, and Hannibal Buress nails the deadpan.
Wished my sister a happy birthday for the first time in about fourteen years, so…maturity?
I dunno, the idea (and the few practices thereof) of being sexually dominated is just funny to me. I mean having the girl take the reins is all great, let’s party, but straight up kinky domination is just funny. It’s Marx Brothers. It’s a larf! I feel like the joker in the dark knight — you have nothing to hurt me with. You can beat me, so what, there was a period of my life I was beaten pretty much twice a day every day. You can insult and degrade me — what, life isn’t already insulting and degrading? There’s nothing in it for me. All my psychological scars are still there and grinding their gears, man. No dominatrix is gonna hurt me any more than disappointment already has, basically. You want hardcore? Life’s a snuff film with a shitty director and indecisive producer.
Also, now I can’t get Pulp’s “This Is Hardcore” out of my head.
Wait, white privilege is code for cocaine, right?
Gotta figure out which three are my most offensive/depraved/casually hateful poems for this art show, then I gotta figure out how to frame them, and the title, which I think will be ITERATIONS/DISINTEGRATION.
Anonymous asked: Whoa, muscles.
I bet you’re one of those dullards who probably loses their mind every time I wear jeans, despite me having worn casual clothes again for going on four years now, like whoa man not a suit does not compute
Out of the few things in life I find soothing, petting the cat in aardvark books probably rates one of the highest. Love that little orange dude.