I'm Not Actually Smart, I Just Prep For A Class Like I'm Going Into Battle

im such a man who leans in doorways. relaxes against the counter. drapes across a couch. sprawls over an armchair. my spine isnt straight and by god neither am i.

reading is like. i’ve read 5 books in 3 days. i have not read a single sentence in months

The goldfinch only becomes more heart breaking in hindsight. You read within the first five pages that no one ever made Theo feel loved like his mother did, and it’s sad because “aw he has no good people in his life who love him” but then you read the book and see Mrs Barbour who loves Theo as one of her own, who slowly gets better, who comes back to life just from being NEAR Theo. And Hobie who teaches him everything he knows, who is always there for him even when Theo turns his back on him, who after everything forgives Theo without a second thought. And of course Boris. Boris who holds him through nightmares, who sings him songs about little kittens, who kisses his own blood off his knuckles. And you realise the tragedy isn’t that nobody loved him, it’s that Theo hated himself too much to see their love.

“i could fix him” well i could watch him spiral into bloodlust and madness instead. it would be significantly more fun

obsessed with stories where you can never go home

they lassoed the moon, did you hear? yeah they brought it down last night and she got so close the water that the tides shot into the supermarkets

yeah my grandma had to pick out her radishes from waist-high ocean she said that the pasta was too close the ground so it was all floating

they're holding the moon halfway now so it's really beautifully bright you can see all the rich men running up and down the tether wearing bandanas to raise money for some charity they started

yeah no i think they're going to keep it there haha, yeah like as a resort somebody said something on the news about turning her face green with little chopped golf grass how about that; we will have a different moon in our memory than in the future , imagine asking were you born before the moon was green haha

last night yeah if you went outside to watch the balloon of her astral body bobbing in our atmosphere all that white particulate coming down like plaster drifting snow in moonrocks over our upturned cheeks

the moon, chafing, unable to rest in peace

I mean he’s kinda ugly and freaky looking I’ll admit it but he’s special to me so it’s fine

Happy pride month to the tiny cowboy and tiny Trojan man from Night at the Museum