In just ten more days, I glide away to New York, New York, the city that never sleeps. I sang Sinatra for hours last night, screamed until the moon turned blue. In just ten more days, I glide away to A new home, a home without you. Will you keep your promises? Will the sea remain just as deep? In just ten more days, I glide away to New York, New York. God, I can’t sleep.
Person A is at their birthday party that person B is not at. Person B is many states away. Person A goes home from the party and leaves their girlfriend at home without telling her. Person A then goes to the airport to catch the earliest plane to where person B is. Person A and B are reunited in Seattle where it is raining. They are recognized by someone who asks to take a picture with them. They agree. The rest of the time they are together you can just imagine what happened. Later person A writes a song about that night and says it was their favorite song to write. After person A leaves person B, person B is unable to sing the song without being overcome with emotion and crying. And 8 years after that fateful night person A and B still pretend nothing happened between them.
1. He isn’t like you thought he was and there’s barbed wire growing in your stomach. don’t let it wrap around your heart and choke you from the inside out. he isn’t worth this.
2. he will stop loving you on a warm summer day where the thick air settles in your lungs like fog. he will leave you on your front porch so you can’t even go home without tasting heartbreak, hot and metallic in your mouth.
go home anyway and spit out the blood on your steps so everyone can see what he did.
3. this is a kind of pain you aren’t used to. the kind of pain that could cause a person to make yarn out of veins but don’t sew yourself a sweater of heartbreak because you won’t always feel this way.
4. he might not feel bad or he might lay awake at night wondering what went wrong. that doesn’t matter because you will never stop loving him if you keep waiting. you say you can’t get over him, you say you’ve tried but honestly tell me if you’re still waiting for him to show up at your window in the pouring rain. tell me if you’re still waiting for him to come back.
5. he’s not coming back and even if he does don’t let him because he left you in pieces once and he’ll do it again.
6. you still haven’t even found all of your heart yet and I’m betting if you check his pockets it’ll be in there.
7. im betting he never planned on giving it back.
8. take it back. steal it if you have to. prison has nothing on the hell you’re living in right now.
destroy anything that tells you you need him– Lily Rain
Before I go into rant mode - I gave Pacifica the llama sweater cause that is supposedly her symbol on the wheel. Plus I think Mabel would totally share her sweaters with her if she moved in.
What are proportions. What is anatomy. What is talent. I love the way it turned out, but I hate it too. Mabel is supposed to be shooting stuff out of a straw at cans or squirrels or something idk but its debatable whether its clear at all if there is anything in her mouth period. Even if you can see that it looks more like she is sucking on a sucker than shooting stuff. Yeeeeah. And Dipper is supposed to be rolling his eyes at their shenanigans but how do you even draw someone rolling their eyes idk. And they are supposed to be out on the couch on the porch doing that stuff but honestly their poses might make more sense if they are just watching tv inside. Oh yeah, and let’s all just pretend half of Stan’s legs aren’t missing.
So yeah, love it, but hate it.
In honor of National Dog Day, the thrilling trilogy
Every time I walked up to my house, this is what I would see. My dog Schatzie would be sleeping outside in her porch spot, but upon hearing my footsteps, she’d wake up. After a second, she would realize it was me, and I could see the recognition light up her eyes. I would call to her, and despite the fact that she was 13 years old and had arthritis, she would struggle to haul herself up to her feet and come to greet me, sniffing my legs and wagging her tail, as I let myself in. For 13 years, “coming home” meant being greeted with joy by Schatzie. In her youth, she would be so transported with delight that she would come running, and then run laps around the house or backyard, when we came home. In her old age, we told her not to get up when we came home, to rest her joints, but she never listened.
Happy National Dog Day to the best dog and best friend I could have ever dreamed of. Rest in peace.
Love of home has nothing to do with the worshiping of a fatherland. The preachers of the fatherland evoke the “love of home,” because humans connected to nature need such phrases to be seduced into embracing unnatural concepts. Every human being who has been shaped by his natural environment and its climate feels a love of home. Every animal that has not been torn from its natural surroundings feels a love of home, without it ever turning into some kind of feeling for a “fatherland” or wishing for its expansion or for fenced and protected borders. An animal without a home will have no love of home, only a longing for a home. It is no different among humans. Can a child who grows up poorly nourished in an airless basement cherish his childhood home? Can he long for these conditions once he is removed from them? Is not this the true criterion for “love of home”? Those who had no home in their youth, or whose home did not bring them joy, have no home they can feel love for either. You cannot oblige people to love, and hence you cannot oblige people to love a home. Still, there is an effort to convince people who have never developed any true feeling for a home that there exists a “fatherland” that deserves devotion, love, heroism, and blood sacrifice. This shows the degree to which the distortions of authoritarian mania have been able to deform the human soul.