Listen to "Petals" by the Honorary Title. Please.
I'm feeling hopelessly dramatic today. Maybe it was the doughnut I had for breakfast. I had one of those dreams that I immediately had to attempt to recreate.
I was with my ex at Dunkin Donuts and he was insisting that I order my coffee the way he does with his friend in the city. I was desperately pleading that I hated it that way, but he made me order it that way and then did not allow me any doughnuts. He then walked over to a table where a girl named Cara who graduated 4 years earlier than I did was sitting, and began making love to her doggie-style. I watched a girl get dumped by her boyfriend and then woke up.
Needless to say, I went to Dunkin Donuts alone and ordered coffee the way I like it, mixed with espresso, cream, and 1 sweet-n-low. And I got doughnuts for my family. I'd like to think I dodged a bullet.
Now listen to "The Horror of our Love" by Ludo. Please. I keep forgetting to be polite.
I'm glad I didn't do what I normally do when I am giving up on someone or something. I think there is this little switch in my head when I come to a point where I need to forget about someone. Either I take the alcohol and harlotry way or the book way, and I am really really trying to just bury myself in books. Other people's words wrapping me up in a cozy little hug instead of me wrapping my shaved legs around some dude because I could blow a .08. It's pathetic. At least I can get enormous pleasure when the main character dies.
I think it's official. I hate Coldplay. And the fact that he's married to the queen of dull-Gwyneth Paltrow.
i think literature suits you better than harlotry; how would i know? but id like to think im right.
ReplyDeleteDunkin Donuts. my only memory of the place is sitting with my nan eating them for breakfast in San Fran, when i was really little- maybe 7?
predictably, my roster on such a subject is decidely thin, considering England isnt all that acquainted with donuts for breakfast.
i hate remembering ill fated dreams, especially when you kinda know what's happening is excruciatingly fucked up- but since its a dream, when whole situation makes sense.
i wonder if crazy people think like that, envisage reality as a mere dream.
i used to read a helluva lot a few years ago; back when consoles were mundane, and Bernard Cornwell novels the genuine shit. for me anyways.
later on, i had better things to do- like relationships, going to parties, trying to avoid police, and pizza deliveries.
but ive actually started reading alot recently, over the last 6 months- much heavier literature than what i used to read; life literature and contemporary affairs.
in a smug way, it makes me feel better how im informed about certain subjects pertinent to my life; y'know?
WMQ