Quote of the Day

Teacher: “So what did you do over break?”

Student: “I solved crimes, observing, not knowing. I flew to distant planets, travelling through the stars with a very immature, yet mature friend of mine. I met an angel, and watched as he fought to save himself, his friends, his true love, and the world. I read stories written by young aspiring authors, who have dreamed up entire universes about love, friendship, and adventure. I journeyed to many worlds, all trapped within snowy white pages. I made new friends, and learned about their lives from hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away. And I never left my room.”

(quote from here)

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Radioactive

So, this song has been playing way too much on the radio, but it’s addictive (until it inevitably becomes old and annoying). I love this fucking song right now. 

Hahaha, this video is pretty great, too.

Radioactive – Imagine Dragons

I’m waking up to ash and dust

I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust

I’m breathing in the chemicals

 

I’m breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus

This is it, the apocalypse

Whoa

 

I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones

Enough to make my systems blow

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Whoa, whoa, I’m radioactive, radioactive

Whoa, whoa, I’m radioactive, radioactive

 

I raise my flags, don my clothes

It’s a revolution, I suppose

We’re painted red to fit right in

Whoa

 

I’m breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus

This is it, the apocalypse

Whoa

 

I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones

Enough to make my systems blow

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Whoa, whoa, I’m radioactive, radioactive

Whoa, whoa, I’m radioactive, radioactive

 

All systems go, the sun hasn’t died

Deep in my bones, straight from inside

 

I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones

Enough to make my systems blow

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Whoa, whoa, I’m radioactive, radioactive

Whoa, whoa, I’m radioactive, radioactive

 

The difficulty of friendship

“You think relationships are difficult? Try friendships. Try courting someone in order to convince them to join you in some nameless, shapeless platonic complication — forever. Convince an adult stranger that you are worth a healthy slice of their limited time and energy without the prize of sex or romance.”

– Laura Jayne Martin

Matches to Paper Dolls

Okay, so someone made a Mad Queen fanvid to this song and this song is amazing and it’s totally a Mad Queen song now and it’s perfect and here it is:

Matches to Paper Dolls – Dessa

I changed the locks

But your key, your key’s still working

You can’t train a moth, I guess

Oh, each beast gets her burden

So we circle this old flame

Too much at stake but too late to change

My nerves are shot, my reserves exhausted

It’s a tired plot but we bought it

Now we’re lost

Between love and cholera

Saccharine read, such a sentimental novel

Give you cavities if it doesn’t drive you to the bottle

As for me, I’ll take another kerosene if you got it

Something harder, look, like a moth you see

And I still get chills when you talk to me

But the years pass by now in two’s and three’s

These thrills ain’t as cheap as they used to be

 

If you’re asking

I can’t say no

Just one more chapter

Our book won’t close

And I know it’s madness

To play these odds

It’s like giving matches

To paper, to paper dolls

 

I know it’s madness

I know

I know it’s madness

I know

I know it’s mad

 

Oh, tried sweet talk, tried dynamite

But I sleepwalk back to the battle site

Fight fire with fire but the fire won’t fight

We just fly these circles like tired kites

And you flash some fang

And I bat my lashes

And we’re back again

No end to this game with matches

We’ve been lovers and strangers and friends who get angry

Made mistakes and amends and brief moments of magic

We forgive and forget and give in to attraction

This whole thing depends on amnesia and madness

And I’d be leaving for good, I’d be looking for better

But I got this broken habit I keep gluing back together

The fever, the fire, the feathers

The fever defies measure

And good sense won’t venture where the moth will go

 

If you’re asking

I can’t say no

Just one more chapter

Our book won’t close

And I know it’s madness

To play these odds

It’s like giving matches

To paper, to paper dolls

 

Just like, just like…

Just like, just like…

Just like giving matches to paper dolls

Just like, just like…

Just like, just like…

Just like giving matches to paper dolls

 

If you’re asking

I can’t say no

Just one more chapter

Our book won’t close

And I know it’s madness

To play these odds

It’s like giving matches

To paper, to paper dolls

I remembered…

…why I miss sexual intercourse so much.

It’s that closeness. That kind of intimacy.

It’s also what terrifies me about it. Not only the physical pain, now, but because I’m one of those idiots who falls in love at the drop of a hat, after the most minimal of reciprocated affection.

TL;DR – Ramble about sex under the cut

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As you can probably tell…

I am not a “writer.”

Self-indulgent public diaries are not the same thing as essays or articles, and fanfiction is not the same as fiction. When I consider actually writing fiction from scratch, it feels like a chore. When I consider writing nonfiction people would actually read, or even pay to read, or at the very least listen to in a shitty coffeehouse, I’m moreso stalled by the sheer terror of attaching my real name to any of it.

I’ve actually enjoyed this weird weekend of slash fanfiction, sleep deprivation, mall shopping and cashiering. When I’m at work earning the $30 I’m going to piss away in considerably less time than I earn it, I feel slightly less useless, until I look at my bills and consider getting on a bus, leaving this place and changing my name. Fleeing from debt collectors…

I tried to start writing a proper memoir and it came out *horrible.* I started with berating my late mother, because I still haven’t forgiven her. Then I ended up defending The Musician, somehow, retelling my re-tell of the re-tell of the night we met. As if the night we met even really happened that way.

Today I was cashiering and thought back fondly -fondly!! – on the movie theater I worked at back in 2009. That seems insane to me, considering how miserable I was at the time.

What else? The slash I’ve been reading is probably incredibly OOC but it was such a turn-on anyway.

It made me reconsider going back to hook up with my friend, but I already complained to my grandmother at length about his negative qualities. What I perceive to be his negative qualities.

Ended up finally having a polite chat with The Photographer over Facebook and I blame all the smutty slash for making me recall last summer’s awful fling. And its positive qualities.

Thoughts from a Smartphone

I’ve been writing over on Tumblr (bostoneris.tumblr.com) but not about anything particular and it’s pretty sparse, interjected between my usual countless “re-blogs.”

Anyway, hooked up with The Scientist on the 26th, which flabbergasted my grandmother and myself, as well, since there’s lots of reasons we aren’t compatible romantically.

It was the first time I’ve been with anyone since August, so like I told my followers on Tumblr (or, at least, anyone who read it) I acted like a nervous virgin.

TL;DR – Graphic sex that somehow manages to be boring under the cut

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