Did it hurt? Yes.

Are you proud of yourself?

This fucking emo-tits mope-fest dreary-ass weather is pissing me the fuck off. I'm sick. I hate being inside. The tea isn't cheering me up. The internets aren't cheering me up. The poems aren't cheering me up. The book is putting me to sleep. Sleep is making feel even worse.  All this gray is just so depressing... Wah ( Read more... )

In the same way I hate the look of shoes when no one is wearing them, I don't like the look of my pack when there is nowhere for me to go. Armed with fire extinguishers, I find no burning house. Which reminds me. I found this, jotted down in an old notebook:

The deaf-mute
you've fallen in love with
walks in his sleep.
Has confused your
poetry for ( Read more... )

( Indeed. )

My tea shipped out today and I feel very good about this. (They responded to my email with a phone call, first of all, then refunded my shipping fee and offered me a coupon for 25% off my next purchase.) I would say that it was the highlight of my day, but really, I had a very good day ( Read more... )

Hello Karma. It's me, Kelly. I know we haven't always gotten along. But I want to thank you for giving me so many presents lately. Fine quality and nicely gift-wrapped, I must say. I shouldn't be so hard on you.

( and renew forever. )

( my world. )

Turn around. Go back.

India, I am grateful for the following: Rabindranath Tagore. Samosas. Buddhism. Paisley. Mohammad Rafi, Asha Bhosle, and Bollywood musicals. Pretty girls in saris. Sitar music. Henna tattoos. Naveen Andrews, though I think technically, Britain is responsible for the likes of him. Diwali. Elephants. All manner of delicious foods and spices. Blue- ( Read more... )