couldn't remember the greatest song in the world
you people are just trying to get me to lose eyebrows, aren't you?
this is why i hate being home- waking up to that shit.
why can't you ever just step back and recognize you might actually be wrong? wouldn't the blow to your ego be worth it if it saved you hours of fighting and your marriage?
why is that so hard?
lame.
this helps:
If you want an interesting party sometime, combine cocktails and a fresh box of Crayolas for everybody.
When you think about it, for sheer bulk there’s more art done with Crayolas than witht anything else. There must be billions of sheets of paper in every country in the world, in billions of boxes and closets and attics and cupboards, covered with billions of pictures in crayon. The imagination of the human race poured out like a river.
Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A Beauty Bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one, It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn’t go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination.
Guess that sounds absurd, doesn’t it? A bit dumb. Crazt and silly and weird. But I was reading in the paper today how much money the Russians and our Congress just set aside for weapons. And I think about what those weapons will do. And I’m not confused about what’s weird and silly and crazy and absurd. And I’m not confused about the lack of, or the need for, imagination in low or high places. Pass the crayons, please.
-All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten, Robert Fulghum
something about that just makes me warm inside.
(:
this is why i hate being home- waking up to that shit.
why can't you ever just step back and recognize you might actually be wrong? wouldn't the blow to your ego be worth it if it saved you hours of fighting and your marriage?
why is that so hard?
lame.
this helps:
If you want an interesting party sometime, combine cocktails and a fresh box of Crayolas for everybody.
When you think about it, for sheer bulk there’s more art done with Crayolas than witht anything else. There must be billions of sheets of paper in every country in the world, in billions of boxes and closets and attics and cupboards, covered with billions of pictures in crayon. The imagination of the human race poured out like a river.
Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A Beauty Bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one, It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn’t go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination.
Guess that sounds absurd, doesn’t it? A bit dumb. Crazt and silly and weird. But I was reading in the paper today how much money the Russians and our Congress just set aside for weapons. And I think about what those weapons will do. And I’m not confused about what’s weird and silly and crazy and absurd. And I’m not confused about the lack of, or the need for, imagination in low or high places. Pass the crayons, please.
-All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten, Robert Fulghum
something about that just makes me warm inside.
(: