mai 2012
28 billets
Gayle Tzemach Lemmon - In Praise of Single Mothers... →
Politicians have accused them of destroying “the fabric of this country.” In fact, as one daughter attests, their powerful example is holding society together.
Also notable is the shitstorm in the comments section.
Homophobic? Maybe you're gay: The New York Times... →
HA I KNEW IT I KNEW IT.
The article’s long but worth at least a skim for the fascinating research methodology.
8 Steps To Hooking Up With A Girl At A Concert |... →
This submission comes from Joe (no last name), who seems to think that he’s something of a ladies’ man. He sent this in; a step by step guide on how to make out with girls you don’t know at concerts. He wrote it from the perspective of a guy trying to hook up with girls, but it can probably apply to other situations, or at least give you some insight into how some predatory guys are thinking....
In defence of lightbulbs
Seriously. They get such a bad rap. Lightbulbs are losers. Lightbulbs should get lost. Lightbulbs are forever alone.
Bulb I say fuck that shit. I am a badass lightbulb. This declaration marks my loud-and-proud lightbulb coming-out party. (It may also be the equivalent of tattooing SOCIAL LEPER across my forehead. In Comic Sans.)
Lightbulbing is awkward only if the relevant couple is a pair of...
Belly blanched his leg.
It’s mottled red and blackish, compressed in a sort of clingfilm bandage. He’s got the week off to heal. He hobbled to me and told me he Depended On Me. These words rang around my head while I suppressed alarm and fear and loathing. This is coming from a man who never deigns to acknowledge anyone’s presence much less speak to them.
Then he said, “Can you buy me...
3 tags
No matter how dim it gets wherever i am
frankocean:
I never quit working. I work in the dark cause work is light. I tell my work all my problems because it never gives answers i have already. It never edits without me. Doesn’t call me names. I give my work away, because it doesn’t cost me much. In fact i’m indebted. I work hard since life is hard. Death is a soft place, it can wait. But work ain’t love. And love ain’t work. For...
“Uhhh. Hi. I am, uh, a resident at this *** and I want to know if you have...”
– Overheard @ Mein Haus. Belly considering throwing his income to the tuition industry. Relayed this information to Small, the object, who was singularly unsurprised and unimpressed at the prospect of undergoing tuition for every one of her A level subjects. Welcome home to insanity.
L'enfer, c'est les autres
They are so cruel and he has no fucking clue. They snicker. He’s confused. He asks me what’s happening on that end of the dinner table; and I squirm, and chew vigorously and look apologetic. Innocently, hesitantly smiling he hams it up for another serving of mockery. A pantomine of friendship so painful that I had to leave the table, sit on the loo, be alone, space out. Now it...
avril 2012
36 billets
#awkward
you think you’re all alone, running through these dim deserted streets of the Kent Ridge campus. bright pink kinvaras making you feel like one foot after another and another is nothing and is forever.
you cruise into an abandoned carpark. tucked into a hill between Biz and IMRE there is no-one and there is just space. inviting, glorious space. safe, you think, as to shed your supa dupa...
“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make...”
– Romeo & Juliet
Caught the last run. Daaaaaaaaaaaayum.
Skewered by Public Law but spirits restored by the good people of Wild Rice
5 tags
Anonyme a demandé : HUUHUUHUUU CHERYL
Metacog: The Curious Case of Alvin Wang's NUS... →
metacog:
Alvin Wang’s appeal to get into the Computer Science program at the National University of Singapore, available at http://www.helpalvingetintoschool.com/ is … strange. I was, at first, in support of him: I emailed the NUS Hackers mailing list, asking people to share his page on their social…
Sky over Central Library is flaming gorgeous right...
BUT I HAVE NO PHONE TO TAKE PHOTO ):
6 tags
Things I did when I discovered... my phone was no...
Emptied contents of entire bag on ground, stifling a scream.
Paced around room in hall, stirring possessions up in tornado of fear and loathing.
Summoned Find My iPhone on my laptop.
Sat trembling, as the map loaded.
Stared incredulously at a blue dot wafting but a few blocks away from hall.
Sent PLEASE RETURN messages.
Sent PLEASE CALL messages.
Got unsteadily to feet and tentatively...
“Sometimes, however, this sense of isolation, like acid spilling out of a bottle,...”
– Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (via loveyourchaos)
This quote cuts rather close. I used to run to get out of the house, and at night so that I’d have unfettered space to myself. Usually the running would buffer the sense of isolation, but occasionally it...
