June 2013
42 posts
“How y’all feelin’ tonight! […] I can’t hear you!”
—Beethoven
sext: i miss dave. i love you. and i’m not drunk. i’m just sad.
“thought something like, ‘people give so much attention to ‘us’ monk-like self-tortured shitheads who try to break down the human experience from a psycho-emotional island, or who are in a binary relationship with a partner, where there’s a support structure intrinsic to the relationship, but for people (parents) who are constantly psychically linked to a bunch of pre-lingual humans, trying to help them understand language while innovating it themselves, like… shit… my despair seems less ‘justified’ and more ‘circumstantial’ not having other human things i’ve embraced the responsibility of enabling, linguistically… yay dads, kudos dads’”
—Buttercup
THE NEATO MOSQUITO SHOW: excerpt from Chuck Young's story 'A Dad In the Life' →
neatomosquitoshow.tumblr.com
I carry my daughter up to bed and tuck her in. I tell her not to be sad. That it wasn’t a big deal. She says she’s sorry and starts crying harder. I tell her not to worry. That she made a mistake and I was just trying to teach her instead of just telling her what to do. That I wanted her to do it on her own so that the next time she’d know. I tell her that nothing she does could make me love her any less. She says, “but I made a mistake.” I tell her that she’s going to make a thousand mistakes, that I expect her to and that that’s totally ok. I tell her that I made a mistake by talking to her the way that I did. That I’m way older than her but continue to make mistakes, that that’s how we learn and that learning is the single most important thing we can do as humans. She asks me if I still love her. I tell her of course and that she’s my favorite person in the whole world. I ask her if she still loves me and she says yes. She stops crying. I hug her and give her a kiss and tell her goodnight though my heart still breaks for her in tiny increments.
_
Chuck Young
http://www.mammalhabitat.com/2013/06/sat-6-15-chuck-young.html#more
I’m somewhat overwhelmed and super appreciative of the response to this piece. I think, “let it fuck you up” could be a good mantra for writing something just as much as for reading something.
“If I am to have any hope of one day being receptive to my children’s emotions, I must first learn to be attuned to my own. I don’t want my children to pick up my lifelong avoidance techniques. I don’t want them to rely on drinking or other addictions to distance themselves from their emotions, to throw themselves into other people’s feelings as a way of circumventing their own, or to be so entirely in their intellects and imaginations that they live their lives as though they’re sleepwalking.”
—Koren Zailckas in Fury
The unintentional fictionalization of your life story as told from your deathbed.
I’ve been thinking about my relationship with art and what I expect it to do to me over the next fifty or so years. I assume I’m just sewing it into the tapestry that is my life story and soon it’ll start replacing real memories and/or I’ll use it in order to better (more poetically?) explain what I was probably feeling at some point along the way. Or something?
It’s not a good sign when touching your own breasts reminds you of Jr. High girlfriends, right? (asking for a dad)
Eating another bowl of ‘Colored Zeros’ (generic Fruit Loops) for lunch because I am human garbage.
V : Motion Sick And Speechless
This has been haunting me lately because of this.
thought about making a post that is just SAVE MY LIFE over and over again like
SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE SAVE MY LIFE
but decided to make it a post ABOUT doing that instead of doing that which is probably worse.
“Then what makes (what makes) what makes (what makes) what makes (what makes) love the exception?”
—Pablo Neruda
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I’m getting my masters degree in The Struggle. My paypal is alf8cat@aol.com, I encourage you (if you’re rich) to put some money in there for me so I can keep this thing I call a life afloat.
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Just thought, “my butt probably makes people uncomfortable.”
Kanye replied,
“The times when you have
seen only one set of footprints,
is when I carried you.”
She wanted to surround herself with people that made her feel beautiful.
He wanted to surround himself with people that made him feel prolific.
They both were lonely.
Marina and the Marine →
readtapestry.com
A tapable story
I did this one too.
I think we’re getting used to having our lives documented online through social media. It only makes sense to use it for your fiction just as much as for your non-fiction.
“Spring Break! 19AD! (*lifts flowing robes)”
—Mary Magdalene
“She’s, like, so whatever.”
—William Shakespeare
A mix of butt songs that kicks off with JLo’s Ain’t It Funny (Remix). You fill in the rest. Lets make this a thread, mmmmkay?
Notes
Using baby fingernail clippers as a roach clip.
Going up to moms at a playground and saying something about not realizing it was ‘hot nanny day’ to really butter them up for no other reason except moms smiling is nice.
May 2013
70 posts
What if they used the Tupac Hologram for everything. Like, every time a band reunited and a member was dead, they just used the Tupac Hologram to do that dude’s parts.
Come see the Beatles! On tour!
Paul!
Ringo!
and Two Tupacs!
“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Yolo.”
—
Reblog this if you, too, are a teen that was introduced to the work of Charles Bukowski via the romantic 2013 movie, Beautiful Creatures.
“Baby, you’re a firework.”
—Jack Kerouac
