Philip Roth, The Dying Animal (via likeafieldmouse)
I have never thought of love this way, and it feels like love is so devalued by pretending it makes you spill out of a tidy little shell. But maybe that’s just thinking of being cracked in one way.
Maybe some people are meant to be cracked open. Maybe some people are fully-developed on their own and if they can’t open their shell they’ll die in there. They’ll suffocate on their own. Maybe some people need love. Maybe others are fine on their own, but some people die if they can’t escape their shell.
I don’t know. Late night thoughts.
the only problem is, i’m already seeing them in st. paul
i have no excuse, cause i have no friends in chicago who are going to go see bryan and erin
i need more chcago friends
someone invite me down there to get mugged/murdered/see TSpod Live :3
Assuming you are human, please seek medical help.
Bottom: Human penis.
Biomedicalephemera is getting their sass on this afternoon.
Ma’am, I am ALWAYS sass. My “informativeness”, and my “factual knowledge”, is pretty much my sassiness and insanity cloaked in the veils of scholarship.
…that said, don’t take my “sassiness” as disrespectful. I love for people to learn above everything. But sometimes people are weirdos, and I love them for it, but still call them out for their bizarre comments and odd notes, and like to poke at them, as my friends poke at me.
whoever owns the vehicle that has had its alarm going off for the past 2 hours
if it’s still going off when bennett goes to sleep, some bitch is gonna get crushed with a fucking longsword
bennett had better hope he doesn’t fall asleep before that battery dies, because this sword exists for a reason…and that reason may or may not be destroying car alarms in a felonious manner.
this car alarm has been going off for so long that im about to take a crowbar to this car outside
not even kidding
it’s been 10 minutes
10 straight minutes of the same bizarre alarm sound
the car isn’t even outside
it’s in a garage
so it means that no one can easily get to it to kill it dead
so not amused
I have no right to be bored
but fuck, is it so much to ask that some of the action comes to ME?
…or at the very least, i wish people would stop judging me for showing up to things without pants
this is breakup material right here
That awkward moment when you tell your grandma about your freelance writing that you’re really enjoying, she’s so proud she wants to see it, and you have to tell her up front that it’s about terrible surgeries and goat gonad implants.
I think the response of “…oh! Well! I’m proud of you, you keep up the, uh, good work, I’m…I don’t need to see it.” was the best possible outcome in this situation.
My sympathies. For a while I got a lot of jobs writing about bull semen auctions and felony deer semen theft. It’s the beat-off beat.
The bull semen I get…the deer semen? Not so much. Deer around these parts seem to have nooooo problem getting it on with each other. I had no idea there were deer breeders in the same sense as cattle breeders.
It was hard not saying “BALLS, GRANDMA. I write about BALLS.”, though I guess I technically write more about dead people and deformed people than testicles. She’s the grandma who came around with children’s books and cookies and edifying activities for us. She wasn’t some quirky, non-grandma-type grandma. She was right out of the 1950s.
Well, at least she’s proud of me. :P
I love how when I post something grotesque on Biomedical Ephemera, people reblog it, but mostly just go “Oh, hey, that’s weird.” and move on.
But then when scientificillustration reblogs it, the people who follow that blog…their responses are hilarious.