Twittering
Flickring
I'm a systematically disappointing spin-off of the best friend you'll ever have and the worst enemy you'll ever make. I hate the third month of the year, I love Betty White, I fear old age, I'm a decent writer, an okay pianist, a terrible jack-in-the-box of puns and tear jerking one liners, and I can't dance.
I make every error of human reasoning, I don't break promises, I'm not a solipsist, I can't waste time, I'm a hypocrite, & a flirtatious cornucopia of cliche causes and ironic effects. My heart and my head are the same like in shrimp, and I'm begging just begging to get my heart broken by the next Byronic hero that walks by.
Give me a polar bear, and I'll give you my soul-which is nothing but a blissful reminder of why you miss childhood, and a spinning vortex of stinging insecurities and paralyzing self-doubt.
Following
Listening
I think I’ve decided what I want to do for the rest of my life.
And by that I mean, I think I’ve decided the top 3 things I want to get into for the next ten years of it.
I will have a band, and we will go far. Music will ALWAYS come first.
But, before photojournalism, I want to write scripts.
I can do it. I know I can do it. I’ve done it, so.
I just need to fucking graduate.
Okay, future. Let’s do this.
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