All great truths begin as blasphemies.
George Bernard Shaw
Read/Post Comments (0)
There is nothing to read here. The content is over there, to your right.
I may, however, at some point, put something here. Some day. Eventually. No pressure.
some fools think of happiness
Ever is so very, very long. Almost as long as never.
It's the n that makes all the difference.
The Nth degree, perhaps.
I'm drinking melancholy tea and it tastes like teenaged angst. It's called Orange Spice and while good, it reminds me all too much of some forgotten-named herbal tea I consumed in great quantites when I was in high school. My own unwished-for time travel device.. steaming hot and served in my grandmother's cracked rose tea cup. I sip and instead of tasting citrus and seasoning, I smell the candle wax and pot pourri I used in my bedroom to disguise the smell of cigarette smoke. A dusty desk littered with bookmarks, notes, envelopes in need of stamps and invariably a few travel brochures.
I had a thing for Easter Island, if the tea is being truthful.
Nazareth playing from the black and chrome ghettoblaster. Love Hurts, because I was 16 and immortal and alone.
I don't want to be there right now. I still feel sorry for her.
I hate weddings. So don't wanna go. Gaaahhhh..
I'm happy he's happy, I'm happy she's happy, I'm happy they're happy together. Just let's all be happy in different cities, ok? Sappy speeches, even gorier toasts, bad table wine. Shoot me now.
Talk to me in 10 years, ok? Love is wonderful - it's the pesky marriage thing that wrecks it all. Wonder if Hallmark has a card about that...
It's the n that makes all the difference.
The Nth degree, perhaps.
I'm drinking melancholy tea and it tastes like teenaged angst. It's called Orange Spice and while good, it reminds me all too much of some forgotten-named herbal tea I consumed in great quantites when I was in high school. My own unwished-for time travel device.. steaming hot and served in my grandmother's cracked rose tea cup. I sip and instead of tasting citrus and seasoning, I smell the candle wax and pot pourri I used in my bedroom to disguise the smell of cigarette smoke. A dusty desk littered with bookmarks, notes, envelopes in need of stamps and invariably a few travel brochures.
I had a thing for Easter Island, if the tea is being truthful.
Nazareth playing from the black and chrome ghettoblaster. Love Hurts, because I was 16 and immortal and alone.
I don't want to be there right now. I still feel sorry for her.
I hate weddings. So don't wanna go. Gaaahhhh..
I'm happy he's happy, I'm happy she's happy, I'm happy they're happy together. Just let's all be happy in different cities, ok? Sappy speeches, even gorier toasts, bad table wine. Shoot me now.
Talk to me in 10 years, ok? Love is wonderful - it's the pesky marriage thing that wrecks it all. Wonder if Hallmark has a card about that...
Read/Post Comments (0)
Previous Entry :: Next Entry
Back to Top
