"A journey? To where?"
"To a utopian land where ones imperfections are what makes them perfect. To a place that mere ideas, and promises whispered in the dark become reality. Where the song you just can't get out of your head explodes in a symphony of sound and color."
"And where is this place?"
"It's all inside my mind."
stalk me.
So excited I’ll probably puke.
Puke? Barf? Vomit? Throw up?
Never sure on what I should say. Of course, the simple answer would be to not use any sort of mouth-spewing synonyms unless the situation is truely dire.
But I enjoy the use of commonly “negative” words to express fantastic things. And vice versa.
I really dislike when people say “visa versa.” And “combinded” instead of “combined.”
And you heavy breathers…I can hear you. And it pisses me off to no end.
Anyway.
What?
-LX
I have never understood the phrase, “too much candy.” Now, on my fifth year of being “too old to trick-or-treat” it is becoming obvious.
Never have I gathered the mental strength to seek out a trash can. Already, my candy bag is full of those inconvenient wrappers.
This year’s pillow case is huge. Much too huge to easily access the candy.
Since when did pretzels become acceptable to give out? I recieved eight bags.
-LX
Everything you always wanted to know about water in the kitchen, but didn’t know existed.
Click the picture.
Have your mind blown.
(Well, suppose you’ll be the judge of that.)
-LX
It’s a story of sorts. Though it conveys nothing more or less than hatred of meatloaf.
What? You say you like meatloaf? I will fight you.
For us meatloaf haters, or the open-minded meatloaf lovers(hah,) enjoy these next 212 words:
—-
“Eew.” Aaron poked the loaf of meat on his plate with the very tip of his fork. No type of meat ever should be served in loaf form. It went against the laws of nature, of humanity! And anyway, what kind of meat was-Dining alone tonight, Aaron?”
He looked up to see his brand new roommate, head cocked to the side, eyes twinkling even behind the dark tint of the sunglasses he insisted on wearing. Like Jonathan was mocking him.
Aaron simply growled to himself, which made Jon frown for a moment, as if he were expecting an invitation of some sort, before he shook his head to himself and sat down in front of him and began to put his fork into the meatloaf sitting before him.
It made Aaron’s insides squirm. How was he not repulsed by the poor imitation of people food? It was clearly dog chow that was put through a blender, and then baked in some way, to be fed to the poor children who were too brainwashed to question it.
“Stop! Don’t eat that!”
Jon froze, and looked up in confusion.
Aaron just couldn’t stand the sight of that gross chunk of loaf being brought up to Jonathan’s mouth.
“Just…put it down, before I barf.”
—-
See?
-LX
Sometimes, I look at pictures- pictures framed in restraunts, posters on the wall, anyplace there may be a photograph. Maybe they’re from last week, and maybe they’re 50 years old, it doesn’t matter. And I look at it. And I wonder, who are those people?
They are people who have lives. Love, loss, friends, enemies, a whole set of problems and a whole bag of happiness so completely different from our own. And it is so interesting to look, and try to see who they are.
But even more so, I wonder about the people not in the picture. I don’t just mean the photographer, but the people watching others get their picture taken, who’re not going to be imortalized forever, even if only in this small way. They are the secrets of the world. The quiet push, unseen but always there. They are the difference-makers who’s faces we never learn, who’s names we have no way of knowing, and who’s life-changing stories are never told.
-LX
What will we call this? A wake up call?
Cigarettes.
And that’s only the beginning.
Chewing tobacco.
Snuff.
Pipe tobacco.
Cigars.
Get the facts. Get help.
Support someone that needs your help.
Don’t start.
-LX
The Ice Hotel.
It’s a hotel…made completely out of ice.
The roof, the walls, the floor, the tables, the chairs, the beds, the bookshelves…everything.
How amazing, (and ridiculously cold!) it would be to stay there.
-LX
This is an Evans-Cairo turkey.
A massacre.
Carnage.
Every single year.
But always tasty- not a bit was left.
-LX
