me to my significant other: you should watch this show
s/o: yeah maybe
me: let me rephrase that, if you value this relationship-
about me
tfw a morning quickie opens up your whole head and sinuses and everything and you suddenly see the beauty and purity of every living thing
what she says: I don’t like romantic movies
what she means: I am completely sick of the same white, heteronormative love story being shoved down my throat by Hollywood. I can’t watch a movie about dinosaurs running on a rampage in a park without them forcing a pasty male and a pasty female into a no-chemistry, forced-smile, by-the-way romantic subplot. I have probably seen forty-five variations of the same bland fucking couple falling in love. Oh wait! Now they’re falling in love during WAR TIME. SO ORIGINAL. BUT WAIT. NOW THEY’RE SEPARATED BECAUSE OF LIGHT-HEARTED EMBARRASSING MISUNDERSTANDINGS. FUCKING DELIGHTFUL. GOD
Aka the zodiac signs
StandardAries aka intensely independent person who needs somebody
Taurus aka extremely slow person who seems to magically get everything done
Gemini aka the person you think is a idiot but actually a damn genius
Cancer aka the angel who has this perception that they’re a piece of shit
Leo aka the person that just needs the simple things to make them happy
Virgo aka the chill looking person who is absolutely not chill in the inside
Libra aka eternal 7th grader who wants to be a model
Scorpio aka the person you think is a angry demon but actually just irritated
Sagittarius aka the rockstar who wants the whole world
Capricorn aka the ultimate mysterious person you want to have sex with
Aquarius aka the true rebel without a cause
Pisces aka spiritually intelligent person who’s stuck in the stupid physical realm
Crown Shyness
“Crown shyness is a phenomenon observed in some tree species, in which the crowns of fully stocked trees do not touch each other, forming a canopy with channel-like gaps.“
How do the trees know not to touch each other?
Nobody knows though it’s been studied since the 1920′s.
that feel when you’re sick as a dog and getting home late and mega-tired and sad and the love of your life calls to say they’re making a quick stop to bring you tacos before they snuggle you
A Story with No Purpose, Part V
Standard“So what are we doing?” he asks. It’s the last day of the con. Breakfast is thinning out when he plops down across from me with his legal pad.
“Huh?” I stare stupidly.
With mild impatience: “We’re teaching a class in an hour. We should talk about what we’re doing.” Ah, right. That. I’m bottoming for his class. I’d assisted for this one before, but he wanted to quickly discuss which trance techniques he’d be demonstrating.
While I watch, he clicks the lead into his mechanical pencil and writes something on the pad. I focus on the place where pencil meets paper. My breathing shifts. I lick my lips slightly.
He notices. Hypnotists always notice. Thinking for a beat, then rolling his eyes, “Ah, this is feeding your weird experimentation thing.“ Ah. Right.
We move on, finishing our negotiations, but my wetness lingers. The legal pad, the pencil, the notes, the wide expanse of table between us, his dismissive tone, my unshakable sense of smallness. Eureka.