i got a 95 on my bio quiz.

overactiveimagination:

i just wanted to announce it to the world.

 I got a 95 on my physics test! yay!

some people

are so talented! But it’s never that they’re talented, really. It’s that they’re so in love with something that they work at it until their work appears so easy it’s just got to be talent. This has all been spurred by a certain bassist’s common app arts supplement ahahahaha 

NICK+CAROLINE 4EVER.

lalala Formformform springspringspring

maggiehasnoidea:

Deer Collin,
You are vanderfool. Prepare to be owned this Saturday. 
Love, 
Tpain

PS If I could only date one member of a band, it would be…
TEDDY LARRABEE hahah (etc.)

Patricia.  Do you understand that you are the only person on the planet who I think deserves happiness?  That’s kind of a weird thing to say, but I believe it to be true.  I also love that under “Describe your jam preferences,” you put ‘Cparker and RAP.’ I was actually referring to the food jam, as on toast, but I like your answer too.  If only you could spread Rap on an English Muffin.

I can’t wait to be owned on Saturday.  But I hope I win, because there’s money involved, and money makes the world go ‘round.  I’m dreadfully sorry I haven’t been at Free Thinkers.  I love coming because you know so much more than I and I love learning from you.  This is basically a giant love letter to Patricia!

But seriously.  You’re awesome.  Don’t change a thing.

Aww shucks: I heart Collin. And strawberry jam. But mostly I heart hearing Collin jam on the piano and every other instrument on Earth. Everytime you come to Free Thinker’s and make intense music references and analogies, I swoon and my love for you expands. The last six words of your love letter= the type of thing you write in someone’s yearbook haha :)

And Lead Us Not Into Penn Station

magscow:

Written by Amy Hempel:

On the nicer side of not a nice street, between God Bless the Cheerful Giver and his dog, and There But for the Grace of God Go I and his dog, a wino engaged me in the following Q and A:

Miss, am I bleeding?
Yes, yes you are.
Where?
From the nose.
And the mouth?
No.
Just the nose?
Yes.
I wonder how that happened.

Everything you can think of is going on here. Plus things that you can’t think of, too. Those things are going on in groups. Men who have sex with vacuum cleaners-these men are now outpatients, in therapy down the block.

Today, when a blind man walked into the bank we handed him along to the front of the line where he ordered a BLT.

A boy on a tricycle pedals past a mother and son. “Why can’t you ride a tricycle?” the mother says to her son. “That boy is younger than you! Why can’t you even go to Harvard!”

Under a streetlight, a man and woman are talking. The man says he feels sure that the woman is going to shoot him and that he can’t help but wonder what caliber she has chosen.

Women who live alone in fear of intruders call the local precinct for advice. “Keep your doorknobs highly polished” and officer tells them. “When someone breaks in we can get clear prints”

The neighborhood drug dealer kicks out his wife. He moves in a girlfriend and the wife finds out. The wife lets herself back into the house and steals a hundred thousand dollars that the drug dealer can’t report missing. The drug dealer’s wife goes to India, where she sends her husband a cable: “The people here are poor so I gave them all your money.”

On the occasion of a star athlete’s accidental overdose, a TV reporter takes his questions to the street. “What do you learn from this?” he asks the truant boys in a vacant lot. “What does it tell you that a young athlete takes his drug and dies?”

The boys fight for the microphone until one of them grabs it away. He says “Man, you have got to build up to that dose.”

A man stops in a bar and rests his shopping bag on a stool. he waves the bartender over to see where inside the bag is the head of a man.”Auction at the old wax museum,” the man says. “All anyone wanted was Elvis Presley and Martin Luther King. I picked up Richard Speck here for next to nothing”

A beautiful familiar women is escorted from a nightclub.

A visiting Southern girl says, “S’cuse me, ma’am, but aren’t you a friend of my mama’s back in Sumner?” “I’m Elizabeth Taylor,” the woman says, “and fuck you.”

A famous artist is approached by a student. “You don’t remember me,” the student says correctly. “but years ago said something that changed my life.” You said ‘Photography is death.’ “After that,” says the student, “I threw out my camera. I began again. I want to thank you for changing my life.”

“Leave me alone,” says the artist. “Photography is life.”

A man falls to the sidewalk in what looks to be an epileptic fit. A well-dressed woman throws her weight against a parking sign. When it bends to the ground, she forces a corner of the “Tow-away Zone” into the seizing man’s mouth. “This way,” she says, “he won’t bite his tongue.”

Women who are attacked phone a hotline for advice. “Don’t report a rape,” the women are told. “Call it indecent exposure. A guy who takes it out and doesn’t do anything with it-cops figure that guy is sick.”

These are the things that go on around here. After a while these things add up enough to weight a person down. I am wearing down.

Holy fuck

I’m never going to be a teenager again.

Turn out the light
And what are you left with?
Open up my hands
And find out they’re empty.
Press my face to the ground
I’ve gotta find a reason.
Just scratching around
For something to believe in:
Something to believe in.
No, but really. I’m never going to be a teenager again. I’m going to have to be fully grown up in eight months. I’m going to be applying to colleges in nine months. I’m going to be awaiting early actions letters in the mail this time next year.
Then in nine months from then I’ll be alone in a dorm somewhere. Fucking scary how fast life moves.