What if there was an apocalypse but some people were really really in denial and optimistic and thinking everything will be back to normal soon?
Like they’d be foraging through the ruins of New York for supplies, shooting raiders in the face and saying “Man, this recession is really bad, huh?”
¡felíz día de los muertos!
ghost choir 👻 🎵
not to alarm anyone but is anybody else worried about how everybody is fucking stupid
no but seriously i come up with great story plots and scenes i want to add to my story but when i sit down at my desk my brain just forgets how to write them down. ill just sit down and be like "they do this and then they die and this other person will be sad" like wow i just have a way with words.
me: yeah i want to be a writer
me: *doesn’t write, just daydreams about writing*
YESS I FOUND IT I FOUND THIS POST
if you c*nsor anything in a post you are l*gally required to put all of the omitted v*wels at the end as a footn*te
*eeoo
#The destiel confession scene but it's just text posts from this day because I still can't believe this was real
Happy Ides of March!!
Paul once reminded me, 'Don't forget, you're not very good, any of you, you know that, don't you?' I had forgotten, I had. It had gotten to the point where I was really believing in myself, you know, really having a good time being me. Apple was in its (comparatively) early days. I had been back from America three months, this was summer 1968. It was design time for stationery and advertisements and logos, we were building our image by being and that was trouble, being. Being was sticking your neck out and getting bites all over it. I don't think I ever hated anyone as much as I hated Paul in the summer of 1968. Postcards would arrive at my house from America or Scotland or wherever, some outright nasty ones, some with no meaning that I could see, one with a postage stamp torn in half and pasted neatly showing the gap between the two halves. Joan received one bearing the words: 'Tell your boy to obey the schoolmasters,' and signed: 'Patron.' Far out. Lots of people were getting postcards in those days; Christ, you know it wasn't easy. These were the days long before Klein came into town. These were the days when Neil Aspinall as Managing Director would come into my room in Apple in the middle of the day and collapse on the sofa and sit, staring and staring. He tells me now it was fear. I knew then it was fear. We were all frightened. We were frightened of Them and we were frightened of each other and we were frightened of the press. At about this time Paul wrote 'Hey Jude'. Remember: make a sad song better.
As Time Goes By, Derek Taylor (1973)