probably a beetle

haha ❤️ hilarious post my friend! *eyes narrow and my face goes stone serious* but it does not resonate with my own ideological schema, so i shall not be reblogging it

crying mecha excerpts

Death Grips is online

More stories from hell (retail) today I was ringing up this lady and she goes oh I want to do part of this on a gift card and the rest on normal card and I go ok and then she hands me a folded piece of paper. I think oh OK it must be folded around the gift card, right? Wrong. It is a folded sheet of 8×11 printer paper with "$40" written on the inside in ballpoint pen. I go what is this. She says a gift card. I say this is not a gift card. She says yes it is. I say this is a piece of paper with "$40" written on it. She says "well it's a gift card." I say it absolutely is not. I am grinding my teeth. She says well I want to use it. I say you physically cannot do that bc it is a piece of paper. I cannot scan or swipe it. I apologize, as if this is my fault, and not because she is completely insane. I hate it here

It's been a hot second since the last time I cried tears of true rage but damn if I didn't come close today

My coworkers were like wow how are you still in a good mood after that my brother in christ after that interaction I went to the break room and took an extra adderall

you can cut the indie with a fork

this movie imagines a horrifying world where fucked up internet mythology is Real and Getting You but i think it would be worth it for mickey mouse cursor & serif font faketube

Anthony Gayton: Yearning

moeagare

*dark souls npc voice* hey guys whats going on 🙂

reading the source code of a videogame and playing it perfectly in my head

hmm. perhaps make the jump physics a little less floaty next time

prose? poetry? uhm sorry i dont subscribe to these cisheteronormative binaries

poetry is when u hit the carriage return a lot

well miley seeing as we’re stuck in purgatory nothing good

girl moves away from her parents to a different part of the country & doesn’t have time to make a few work friends before a large puffball on a fuzzy stalk grows out of the crown of her head. it only hurts if you pull on it but the weeks of government attention and testing and media scrutiny have left her kind of long-term-terrified even though they’re leaving her alone now. people keep looking at her when shes walking around so she mostly drives places even though she doesn’t like it. her birthday is next week but nobody at work knows so she will have to buy herself her first legal daquiri

#3 is far too low for what's written there but yeah i respect the concept (via sabakos)

THE DIVORCED DAD WAS BAIT WE GOT ANOTHER ONE BOYS!!!

Hey now, I'm not ashamed to be someone's midlife crisis that wrecks the one familial relationship of value they had left after their marriage was already left in tatters, I think there's a simple bliss to sucking an older fatherly type guy off and watching his mind rationalize at a mile a minute while he's polished, trying to see if he can hold on to this new idea that just occurred to him, that this was why his marriage failed, that it wasn't about all his shortcomings, the ones she hurled at him for half their marriage, maybe he loved her after all, but he just could never express it, because she could never be what he truly needed, what he has right now, a fresh femboy graduate's warm, uncaring mouth.

It doesn't matter if it's true, doesn't matter that within days when his son figures out what's transgressed, that they'll both never be able to look each other in the eyes again. But he'll believe it, believe he's truly found the answer, because it's what he needs to believe to hold onto his very idea of self without drowning it away in cheap booze and college football.

It won't be enough. He'll soon discover his son's not talking to him at all anymore, and the reason why went off to college and never left a contact number, probably on purpose. So he'll need new thrills, new trysts, he'll make a Grindr, though it won't work for a long while. When it finally does, the next morning he'll delete it off his phone out of shame, but he'll reinstall it later than afternoon, reinstall it every afternoon, an app store ouroborous, his new post-coital sacred practice. And in shame, he'll hang out again around music too young for his children, hit the gym, pick up fishing just for the hooks, mold himself out of whatever dirt and grime and emptiness he can find into whatever they all want him to be, just for an impossible chance to live that instant once again.

But back to reality, to the present laid before him: by the time he finally finishes, gasps for breath in that dusty garage, remarks begrudgingly, almost inaudibly that she never swallowed, it's too late, it's all over that selfsame second that it started, and he's already been set on the path. And he knows but doesn't believe how much he'll never feel that first high again, for no addict ever believes in himself. In his blithe denial he'll resolve himself: to chase that fading dragon's image, though it's lost forever to him even now, while it's still standing right across from him, idly checking its phone; that dragon who already picked out a dorm fridge and a roommate and won't call, and eventually, won't even remember. But those eyes that looked up at him, though almost vacant and vaguely bored, those graven images will burn in his mind, overwriting old concepts. And that innocent summer day, that unimportant August date, will cast its light across the shadows of his mind until its own lights are finally put out for good.

And it's as arithmetic as it is inevitable, nothing will ever replace those lost visions, this puzzle is not his to be solved. What truly mattered was not the mouth that spoke but the transgression that it embodied, the one singular spiraling moment when he willfully stepped out of bounds. The other liasons and scandals he finds after will all be found as cheap flings, empty flickering fleshlights with built biceps and grade point averages attached. For it was always inevitable that they could be nothing more in spite of all their gilt and glamour, for they were allowed. What he lost, long before the divorce, long before the birth of his now-betrayed son, was the sin that follows redemption. He was given its template merely once, a hint or an accident, a cosmic joke with no laughter, and it's echoes will haunt him for an eternity because he was incapable by necessity of ever speaking in their language. To the rest of us his body will die, but his prison's mind is eternal.

Um.

...

So. Yeah.

I just, uh, think that the idea of making someone else feel that sort of despair for the rest of their life is very special.