Well, I’m going away for the weekend.
Catch you all on Monday.
Try and behave while I’m gone.
vintage
“We have power, you and I
But what good is that now
We could build a new world
If we only knew how
And we find we’re alone
We are old, you and I
We beg warmth from the sun
In the dreams that we dream
We ask what have done
And we find we’re alone.” – Jacques Brel, Alone (“Seul”).
Happy Valentine’s Day to my fantastic Tumblr girlfriend, the lovely and eloquent Ivy.
(I’m trying to make her blush, of course.)
And you’ve succeeded, my dear. <3
(Followers, she’s seen me blush before realtime. And made me blush before realtime. It’s a talent.)
Last night was nothing short of therapeutic.
Stay classy, tumblr.
Followers: Suddenly, there’s a ton more of you. I don’t even know how to begin to understand this. It’s unnatural. Did I accidentally post up a nude of myself or something on here? (Tumblr followers tend to spike for people after posting photos such as those, I’ve noticed.)
Seriously, where did you all come from?
And even more seriously, welcome. Thank you for following me and my story. It’s nice to have you all around.
So, according to some modern lingo, a girl’s a noodle if she’s straight until wet. Take, for instance, the woman in the lace collar. (Look at that smile.)
Fresh and I caught up over tea tonight. I wish I could say that the conversation was sophisticated, but we wound up talking about noodles. Our experiences with them, our opinion of them. And not the kind that come in a little styrofoam microwave cup.
Fresh calls this phenomenon a “spaghetti girl”.
Try and tell me “noodle” isn’t better.
One of the Ivyest screencaps out there. Just the look on her face alone.
There’s no need to even ask me this.
I need to get a muse. Or be a muse. I have all this creative energy lately and I just can’t seem to find an outlet.
Is that true? Because the tiny romantic that lives at the bottom of my sexuality just squealed if it is.
They didn’t know each other.
