bam, reciprocity


My favorite (actually the only one in the Fargo area) hookah bar REJECTS ANYONE I DON’T LIKE.  or at least, keeps them from having a good time.

WELL DONE pyromaniacs. well done.

 I never don’t dance

why all the women there are jealous of me

I love the way an uncurled fist becomes a hand again
Because when I take notes I need it to underline the important parts of you
Battle cry ballistic like a disaster in lipstick
Earthquakeing and taking out the monuments of all my hollow yesterdays
We’ll always have the obvious
It reminds us who and where we are
It lives like a heart, shaped like a jar that we hand to others and ask,
“Can you open this for me?”
We always get the same answer:
“Not without breaking it”
More often than sometimes, I say go for it

-Shane Koyczan

love this song.  Uff teri adaa.  also I’m in love with the hookah bar, but hookah smoke gets me too dizzy, so after a while I just eat smoke rings.  That is probably the only smoke related skill I have.  The ability to consume smoke rings.  I can’t even make them. It’s like someone who can’t cook, just eat (which actually, is pretty much me, too)  anyways. a good song.

take me as a hostage

I’m not big into drinking, especially when it comes to solving problems.

but dang, the  lyrics to Pour Me Another are genius.

 Odd how it’s possible to see getting trashed as an act of defiance.. an act of empowerment.

Drink it all away, numb it down to none
Stay awake tonight and wait for the sun
You say you hate your life, you ain’t the only one
Let your frustration out the gate and watch the pony run
One double, for the hunger and the struggle
Two for the fool trying to pull apart the puzzle
Three now I smile while I wait for your rebuttle
By the fourth shot, I’m just another child in a bubble
Trying to play with the passion and the placement
Just to see what these people let him get away with
Still trying to climb a mountain for you
Hammer in my hand, still pounding on a screw
She don’t listen so he don’t speak no more
Nobody’s winning ’cause neither is keeping score
Don’t wanna think no more, just let me drink some more
Pour me another, cause I can still see the floor

stay hungry

a limping heart is not necessarily a

it is possible to be greedily
broken. to be fascinated instead of
frightened by all the
dead cats that one’s curiosity has bred

for some, pulse-less tabbies take on new names
with each stage of
rigor mortis

ink recipes
folk magic
the benefits of



something random… I don’t know why, but going to church straight up kills my writers block… I always end up writing something there.