spherical light
gah.
sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppp ... face down in my burgundy pillow, j!blankie cuddled around shoulders, quilt over head ... while the traffic murmurs past the garden window while the sun climbs higher into the weekday sky and the birdies tweet louder and louder and I sleep deeper and deeper, hips flat into the bed, hair snarled up around my ears .... then to surface sometime for food and chocolate and water ... huddling back on my side to peer out at the unseen season 3 of alias ... yaaass, bliss.
poor alison. i never realised how she reacted to will and the knife. poor alison. *pets the scary spy* and still, though i knew it was coming, that ending of season 2 is a big fucking ask. biiiiiiiigggggg demand of trust and suspension of disbelief. i was so damned tempted to just hurtle right on into season three for an explanation goddamnit but no, it was midnight and i didn't feel smart enough for more unlubricated mindfucks. discovered the blooper reel and gaped for the duration of two viewings. if anything, jen's reactions made me teeter on the edge of dangerous love. omigod jack ... i mean, victor. *sporfle* what did sloane dooooo to himmmmmm? my jack my jack!whaaaaaaaaaaatttt? i wanna know i wanna knowwwww! don't tell me ANYTHING!
did not go to see the regular johns at club 77 last night, felt kinda guilty about it too, especially when puppydog keyboardist messaged me to ask what time they were on. instead wasted the entire evening doing side b of a mix tape only to run out of space before the triumphant third act even began. this is when the full archaic nature of the mix tape was realised, oh yes. my kingdom for a cd burner. didn't even do the readings for tonight's class, really don't give a fuck any more and feel all the more guilty for not wanting to help other writers. selfish being.
gah. can't type, keep bashing my hand into doorjambs as i walk around, can't concentrate.
could see tinydancerfuturehusband this friday night. dts, mercy arms, mod cons are performing at the elephant and wheelbarrow in paddington. caramel stoner, alan the aquarian and one part of skorch are djing. tinydancer is sure to be there. i'm not. cos, ugh, not pretty this week.
ari, is it okay for me to be in love with jack and/or victor garber? too squicky?
am so glad i brought this particular album to work, it's been in my bag for the past three days and gah, so glad...
this post brought to you by thursday morning exhaustion and that fucking apple.
sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppp ... face down in my burgundy pillow, j!blankie cuddled around shoulders, quilt over head ... while the traffic murmurs past the garden window while the sun climbs higher into the weekday sky and the birdies tweet louder and louder and I sleep deeper and deeper, hips flat into the bed, hair snarled up around my ears .... then to surface sometime for food and chocolate and water ... huddling back on my side to peer out at the unseen season 3 of alias ... yaaass, bliss.
poor alison. i never realised how she reacted to will and the knife. poor alison. *pets the scary spy* and still, though i knew it was coming, that ending of season 2 is a big fucking ask. biiiiiiiigggggg demand of trust and suspension of disbelief. i was so damned tempted to just hurtle right on into season three for an explanation goddamnit but no, it was midnight and i didn't feel smart enough for more unlubricated mindfucks. discovered the blooper reel and gaped for the duration of two viewings. if anything, jen's reactions made me teeter on the edge of dangerous love. omigod jack ... i mean, victor. *sporfle* what did sloane dooooo to himmmmmm? my jack my jack!whaaaaaaaaaaatttt? i wanna know i wanna knowwwww! don't tell me ANYTHING!
did not go to see the regular johns at club 77 last night, felt kinda guilty about it too, especially when puppydog keyboardist messaged me to ask what time they were on. instead wasted the entire evening doing side b of a mix tape only to run out of space before the triumphant third act even began. this is when the full archaic nature of the mix tape was realised, oh yes. my kingdom for a cd burner. didn't even do the readings for tonight's class, really don't give a fuck any more and feel all the more guilty for not wanting to help other writers. selfish being.
gah. can't type, keep bashing my hand into doorjambs as i walk around, can't concentrate.
could see tinydancerfuturehusband this friday night. dts, mercy arms, mod cons are performing at the elephant and wheelbarrow in paddington. caramel stoner, alan the aquarian and one part of skorch are djing. tinydancer is sure to be there. i'm not. cos, ugh, not pretty this week.
ari, is it okay for me to be in love with jack and/or victor garber? too squicky?
am so glad i brought this particular album to work, it's been in my bag for the past three days and gah, so glad...
this post brought to you by thursday morning exhaustion and that fucking apple.