Me: I will fuck you up A large bowl of potato salad: oh shit
I miss vine and before you go there no TikTok ain’t no vine
every day i wake up and try to channel the raw, unhinged energy of Blücher demanding to be called “Marshal Forward” while actively hallucinating that he was pregnant with an elephant. and yet, somehow, i am outmaneuvered by the sandwich artist at subway
deleting twitter isn’t enough. they need us to know they had 36k followers. like a pharaoh getting buried with their gold
my body at 18: i can survive on caffeine and spite my body at 30: if i drink water too fast, i have to lie down for 2 hours
I’m an adult damn it and when I want to remember how many days there are in the month I loudly repeat “30 days have September…”
sauce: i made it up
“Memories” is hands down the worst song in Wicked and it’s not even close
liberals screaming ‘this isn’t who we are’ as their fascist president prepared to take the oath of office, while a CIA agent in a Hawaiian shirt carefully files away 73 years of toppling democratically elected governments under ‘Oopsie Daisies’
“you can’t survive on vibes alone.” well guess what, i’ve been living off raw vibes and a 3-year-old bottle of expired ketchup, and i’m still here. thriving, even.
You don’t actually miss Twitter. You miss who you were 10 years ago.
Like any social media platform, it’s a place for me to share my thoughts, feelings, and experiences.
But there’s no ads, no trolls and no Trump unless I choose it.
my roommate malcolm gladwell refuses to clean the bathroom because he says “grime is an important artifact of collective living.” i’m going to burn the entire apartment down.
some folks will go through their whole lives believing the rest of us are just characters in a Zelda game waiting to hand out lil' side questions and experience points and badges for being A Good Hero.
You can’t count on much more than just showing the hell up, day after day.
The Death of Critical Thinking Will Kill Us Long Before AI.
you can tell marvel movies broke our brains because the election ended weeks ago and we’re all still glued to the screen waiting for a mid-credits scene where some C-list superhero shows up to give us one (1) crumb of hope
First rule of social media: Never let anyone know what you’re doing. Ever. Every post should be a decoy. Post about spaghetti, but secretly you’re at a funeral. I’ve been within 500 feet of the coroners office for days. I leave no trail. That’s how you Keep ’em guessing.
lewis carroll, 3 bottles of laudanum deep, scribbling frantically about a rabbit in a waistcoat or whatever: “oh man. yeah. banger.”
i trust people who get shit wrong more than i trust people who spend the majority of their time and energy yelling at people who get things wrong