If today’s not a day for writing I don’t know what is. It’ll probably work better if I give myself a goal. So, I think I’ll try to not text Her back until I’ve written at least three pages.
I just hope I can last that long.
"The writer’s intention hasn’t anything to do with what he achieves. The intent to earn money or the intent to be famous or the intent to be great doesn’t matter in the end. Just what comes out."
Lillian Hellman (via justanotherthinker)
So I’m covered in dog hair and I feel pretty awkward. I still think tonight was a success though. We watched Pet Semetary while we ate the sugar cookies that she made earlier and had the usual odd comments at odd intervals during the movie and laughed politely. And then when the movie was over she made a comment about heading back upstairs to finish watching her show and I stood up to go and she walked me out. And then we stood around my jeep talking. And then we said goodbye. And then I drove away and she went back inside. And I felt stupid almost instantly, thinking she probably thought I was some kind of idiot, resolving to end the charade by simply never speaking to her again. But then as soon as I got home she texted me and I relaxed and felt even more dumb for obsessing over nothing.
So… That was pretty much my night.
"
“What’s the rumpus?” I asked him.
He looked at me carefully before he replied, as if he wanted to be sure that the information was going into safe hands. His eyes were gray as his clothes, but not so soft.
“Don Wilson’s gone to sit on the right hand of God, if God don’t mind looking at bullet holes.”
“Who shot him?” I asked.
The gray man scratched the back of his neck and said: “Somebody with a gun.
"Dashiell Hammett, Red Harvest (via middlemanagementlivingthedream)
ecstatic shock
n. the surge of energy upon catching a glance from someone you like—a thrill that starts in your stomach, arcs up through your lungs and flashes into a spontaneous smile—which scrambles your ungrounded circuits and tempts you to chase that feeling with a kite and a key.
Amazing movie.
I’ve been writing and making paper cranes and I got an A on my Bio final and I have a date planned this weekend with a pretty girl and I’m feeling more like myself than I have been in weeks. Which makes me feel good but also makes me feel kinda stupid, because my mood seems to be dictated entirely on the things that do or don’t happen to me. Which is pretty dumb. But I think I’m going to try and enjoy the moment now, because if I know myself, and I kind of think I do, I’m pretty sure that I’ll be back to my depressive, solitary state in a couple of days.
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros - Kisses Over Babylon
(Source: edwardsharpeandthemagneticzeros.com)
the bends
n. frustration that you’re not enjoying an experience as much as you should, even something you’ve worked for years to attain, which prompts you to plug in various thought combinations to try for anything more than static emotional blankness, as if your heart had been accidentally demagnetized by a surge of expectations.
(via essmusssein)
I suck at writing tonight. And it’s hot. And I just want to watch something funny or hang out with someone cool. Or go somewhere interesting. But none of that really seems possible right now, because everyone’s busy, and I’m too hot to move. So I get to lie here and think about all the things I want and sulk and feel like some kind of sad sack of repressed emotion.
I think the heat is making me feel depressed.
God.
What doesn’t make me feel depressed?
(Source: aswagtime)
(Source: i-am-the-oracular-spectacular, via papercrushed)
