I wonder if British people really like olives, too.
10 things I wish I could say to 10 different people
1. I’ll always care about you but I wish you’d be as smart as I know you are.
2. I know there’s more pain in you than I can ever really reach and you’re built to create even more for yourself. I hope you discover perfection like you’ve earned.
3. You’re incredible. Fuck that guy. That’s a dismissal, not an imperative. I will always be there for you, whatever you need. You don’t ask for much but I’ll give you anything you request. You inspire me to improve myself every day.
4. You’re the one I can always go back to. You’re me, in so many ways, and you’re also something far greater, like my cosmic shadow projected over the Milky Way. I’ve watched you grow up into something exquisite. Not every soulmate has to be romantic, and you’re my soulmate. Even though you totally missed your chance. Bwahaha.
5. Gosh, I’m so glad for us. I’m so, so glad for us. I know you’ll always be there for me and I won’t be able to do the same because you’re basically impenetrable and that’s okay because it gives me something to admire. Never stop being that way.
6. You’re beauty. I will never forget that. No matter what you do I’ll always rush to your side when you need it. You’re my priority. It’s totally perverse and pathetic but also poetic. You’re a tragedy burning like a neuron star but I know you’ll last even longer and I will preserve that for eternity. I guess you forgot what that meant, but I won’t.
7. I know this is difficult but you’re going to get through it. Seriously. I believe in you. I’ve always secretly wished I could be as level-headed as you are, and to see you like this is heart-breaking. But I’m gonna help you out and you’ll see that there’s always, always, always hope.
8. Gosh, that was unexpected. I’m not sure if I disagree with you, though. I mean, you’re so great and loving that it should’ve been common sense that tampering with that was going to result in an explosion. I think it’ll pass and I think it’ll help you grow.
9. I’m so sorry. I wish I could live up to your ideal and I know it’s your job to love me unconditionally and that’s fine but I know I don’t deserve it. I need to pull my own weight. I need to make you proud in the ways that count.
10. I can’t apologize enough. I know that it doesn’t mean much to say that I’m at your service but I am. You’ve endured things that I can’t even begin to understand and your spirit has always captivated me. To see it get jerked around like that is horrifying. But you’re going to be an incredible parent and husband and I can only offer all the support I have.
9 things about myself
1. I have a thousand alter egos that I’ll never be and you’ll never know any of their names.
2. I love writing but I want to get better. I can see myself getting better. I realize that I’m finally capable of making something beautiful. Sometimes I don’t think people see that very well. I’m going to make sure that some of them do.
3. Language makes sense to me. My linguistics class is a breeze. On that note, prescriptive grammar is ridiculous and the Ivory Tower can suck my Ivory Tower.
4. My dreams hold many motifs. Most of the time they’re unsettling. I often find myself avoiding sleep because I know that my dreams will be too heart-wrenching for me to bear.
5. I wish I were a better musician. I feel like my experience of the world would be so much more complex and almost tactile.
6. I sound like I’m super-pretentious, and maybe I am, but trust me - I know I’m really stupid, and when it looks like I’m trying to think up a big word to say I’m actually trying to think of a smaller word, and when I can’t find one I say “fuck it.” All of my thoughts are in a big script and it’s impossible for me to tear away from it.
7. A lot of people say their friends are the most important things to them. But I would drop everything for a great many of them.
8. I have really high standards for “love” in every regard. Brandishing the word is like wielding the universe. Maybe my thoughts are too exorbitant, but I truly do believe that the world would be a better place if more people shared them.
9. Sit with me for an hour or two and we’ll make a real human connection. Seriously, go on and do it. I don’t jabber about bullshit. I might pontificate for longer than you’d like, and I’m sorry about it. But you’re going to get a portal into my life that’s going to affect you for the rest of the day, and I really hope it’s for the better.
8 qualities you like in a significant other:
1. A sense of humor. Can’t stress that enough.
2. The courage to be affectionate. Chances are I’m going to be pretty good at this whole relationship thing myself, okay? I don’t feel restricted by relationships, I am easily pleased, I don’t ask for anything but devotion. Just let yourself feel. Don’t be afraid of contact. It’s all we have.
3. Sorry, but you’ve pretty much gotta be a genius.4. Musicality. This isn’t a deal-breaker, I suppose, but music is fucking awesome. You should at least be able to realize this. 5. Reasonably articulate. We’ll be able to discuss the powerful stuff more easily that way. 6. Hair is nice. Take care of your hair. 7. Eyes too. 8. Be tragic, be flawed, for Christ’s sake be INTERESTING!
7 best feelings in the world 1. Quintuple-orgasm, I guess? 2. Then quadruple… 3. Being in love. 4. Being told you’re loved. 5. Succeeding. 6. Laughter. 7. Triple…
6 things I’m trying to improve about myself
1. Broadening my horizons. 2. Writing better, and more. 3. Being nicer. I’ve gotten lax in that. Gotta fix it. 4. Studying more, but isn’t that everyone’s goal? 5. Becoming more of a reader. 6. Physicality, obvi.
5 people who inspire me Randomized to avoid awkwardness (seriously, I took a random number generator with one digit assigned to each name, lawl). 1. Mandarin Mathematics. 2. Natalie Boyd. 3. Momdad. Sorry, you get two. 4. William Cheshire. 5. Delaney Moghanian.
4 things I think I do pretty well
1. Write. I guess. :D 2. Read. 3. Find the extraordinary in the mundane. 4. Say stuff that people later tell me is very quotable.
3 songs that you listen to often (currently)
1. Point of Existence - Motion City Soundtrack 2. I’m Actual - The Format. 3. The Gambler - fun.
2 things you want to do before you die
1. Make lots of people really happy. 2. Be made really happy.
1. I don’t really believe in right and wrong. I guess I’m too much of a psychologist to think that volition can determine those things. Or maybe I’m just scared, too scared of messing up and fessing up. That’s terrifying, to be sure of your morals and then to find out that they’re wrong? It’s impossibly painful. You know, I think I’m just really scared of everything. I think we’re all just really fucking scared.
Every dream has been a nightmare this week
And you’ve been every nightmare
Tiptoeing like a circus into swirling woes
Saluted by rat-kings and dread beasts
Rending flesh unconscious, drawing candied blood
You are disguised as virtue
I name thee Hope and watch you embrace me asunder.
We run unclothed through countless Edens,
Without shame or sacrifice, we smiling brutes
We caricatures of justice,
We fantasies of sweat,
We tears from a weeping world,
We diaphragmal swollen teething burning throatkind stinking puke
We arrogant tick-tocking strangulated perforated earthkind bloody laryngitis
We pitchforks and torches unto reason,
We the madness that unkempt majesties forgot to declare a nation’s greatest traitor
We the nation, we betrayal, we greatness.
Now down in jagged chasmal valleys I await you
Standing atop the tallest bed, rocks for pillows,
Wind for a chilly blanket,
Astride a table for a picnic,
When we will dine together on a banquet of bruises
And choke and clutch and keel and wane and pale and burst
And melt and gorge and become a feast for the louse and the crow
And the rat and the hound and the billion squirming maggots
And muscle and bone and dirt and mud and seed and forest and grow.
Across a cadaver plain that seeps into forever
Into putrid horizons and gray sludge coalescing in infant toes
Over a pissed-off ocean swallowing greedy galleons drowning Her Majesty’s proud rapists
Under sordid canopies of ash, bark blackened by skeletal fire licking smiling lapdancing breathing-into-ear biting straddling fucking cumming murdering dying
Beyond myofibril spools peeling apart the glazed filament
Between stalagmites of mold on limestone arteries
Finally resting in a static synapse jolting reflexes trading sodium for protein trading food for shit trading anabolic nectars for swollen pussy trading a placental straightjacket for an eternity coffin one bed one bath trading last year’s dreams with this year’s nightmares trading you for ethereal masturbation.
Autumn watches crimson rivers
Winter watches smoke pour from the oven
Spring is blind
Summer forgot what summer meant
And still we use all the parts of the supercell.
The tub fills with catastrophe
Turn rusted knobs for equilibrium
Plug your nose and submerge and forget the water bill and the electric bill and the duckbill and the Bill of Rights and the Pecos Bill
Forget why you can’t drown dogs in methylchloroisothiazolinone why you can’t be Milgram use a Yale cock to make them shock why you can’t hit with a closed fist why you can’t make Xiao stitch together your purse why you can’t for one night be the animal that courses in you why you can’t expect your lungs to process chaos
So you come up and let a bullet nestle in your frontal lobe
And Christ couldn’t they just jam a needle in your eye
And then it’s done
Your dream is back
Your mind is dripping down a sacred drain into atheist pipes.
You can’t ask for more
No one will buy you, that’s the real twist
You can’t stumble about a pitch-black room to find your glasses
And Old Stearns gives me a funny prophecy
But I’ve never whimpered you up against the wall I’ve never whimpered you on the pube-sprouting bathroom floor I’ve certainly never whimpered you in the back of an oxidized Honda
So there’s a world beyond this dream but I can’t swallow it
The portal obscured by contusions leaking pus hovering like a buzzard on Hell’s thermals
You can’t ask for more but you can’t leave either.
But the nightmare turns a satanic dowry
More trades, more harrowing hearts
Until a deal of lies for truths is struck like a match
And these visions, projected onto the backs of wrinkled eyelids
Shut off, and by God I’ve been staring into darkness
So fronds of sun crawl in through Venetian chainmail
Coruscate on ugly stucco
So mundane I want to throw up
So gorgeous I want to throw up
And it’s been like this every day this week
And the fog rolls down the street like napalm
And it’s still 6:30 with a purged agenda
So back into my breach I go.
Here, she could almost trick herself into believing that there was such a thing as being free.
What if I said that every time I ran from you it was to hide in a sheet of virtual paper, a pixel-thick universe where right and wrong were the discretion of ten brazen fingertips, and that in that place your most intricate mechanisms were ousted by an apostate doppelganger who, in your image, shared in the feasts of my soul? Would it intimidate you? Would you be scared? Or would you grasp me and take the plunge yourself? For we are a divine anarchy, and you and I live to change the rules.