I am so happy. I’m happy because today is a holiday. 272-day! we did it with you, and, 271 other people. this post is for you. this isn’t for me. well… ok. yeah. but it’s for you too. you are the reason for my existence. this is for the sad anon folk who need someone to swear at because they’re not old enough to swear yet, and those who’d rather not be at work; who’d rather not be doing anything else but browse tumblr. that’s what this is all about. 272. this feels like when you get a rash in your thighs like this one time when I was at camp or school or something. my thighs were in a lot pain and I went to the bathroom to look at the mirror and I was like “oh no, that’s not good that’s- those are red bumps and it’s clearly not bug bites or stab wounds that’s just from….” well the word is chafing I would find out later. it hurt. it hurt to walk because of those fat little thighs so I told a teacher or she saw me limping or something. wait, I don’t… do you really limp when both legs are fucked up? wouldn’t that cancel it out and you’d be fine? she comes up to me and she’s like, “you got a rash on your legs?” and I was like, “… ye.” “it hurts a lot I don’t think I can keep running around.” she goes “show me” and I go “no!” that doesn’t— no! I put my foot down. and that made the rash hurt a little bit. I wasn’t going to show my rash to this lady, I barely knew her. I was like eight years old anyway. and what’s she going to do? does she got some kind of fucking rash fixing laser vision she was going to activate? burn it away? that’d be dumb. that’d be really dumb. you know what that would do? that would just leave BURNS. burns are worse than rashes. and that’s what this feels like, making it all the way 272. feels good. feels so good. so amazing. thank you. for all you’re love. keep that up. because we’re gonna go all the way. I’m going to make another thank you post. 500 followers. that’s our next goal. I think we can do it. no, you know what. fuck that. thousands! when we get to a thousand followers I’ll do another thank you post to show my love for you. because that’s what I’m here for.
The internet used to be so strange. no one really knew what was going on. when I was a kid I’d download audio files; three second things, usually quotes. I changed all the alerts on my computer to simpsons and star wars .wav quotes. when you started up the computer instead of the Windows deeeluueeeeeea or whatever the fuck, I changed it to darth vader saying “all to easy.” which is from episode V when he thinks he’s killed luke. his son. that’s a pretty nonchalant way to acknowledge the successful murder of your only child. those movies suck, by the way. why pick that moment to tell him? “oh by the way, dude, whose fucking hand I just cut off: I’m your DAD. hahahahahahahahahaha” ok. why not before the fight? you could probably save a lot of trouble. also, what’s he thinking, luke? he had one training session with this puppet and now he’s like “I’m gonna take on the strongest dark force in the universe. I got this one.” can’t even lift a ship out of water with his mind now he’s gonna beat darth vader? get the fuck outta here. HE DIDN’T STAND A CHANCE. it’s not even— he shouldn’t even have lasted that long. it was only because it was his dad. it was like when a father plays his kid in driveway basketball and pretends he’s not as good as he is so the kid can have a chance even though he can just block every shot and lay it up because the kid is two feet tall. that’s how darth vader was fighting luke skywalker. “all right son, I’ll let you think you’ve got some skill here but at the end of the day I’m going to have to chop your arm off.”
"all to easy." that’s it? how about OH MY GOD MY SON. dude is pretty over the whole having a kid thing.
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle-Earth.
- George R.R. Martin (via indisposablehero)
This is one of the most beautiful quotes I think I have ever read. I love it, and I will treasure it for my entire life.
This so much.
I wanted to say thank you. again! 271 followers. that’s not a small stick to shake a sneeze at. you cannot do better than that. well. you can do a lot better than that. and I just wanted you to know how happy that makes me. to do better. so thank you, from the bottom… hey why— I don’t understand why the bottom is the good part of the heart. thank you, from all of my heart. all of my heart to you…. thanks. we’re going to keep going now. onto bigger and better things. every new follower feels like getting a hug from a grandma. not like your old dumb gross grandma, I mean one of those 42 year old hillbilly grandmas that you see on tv. that kind. that’s pretty good. hopefully I’m in your dreams. I hope that’s what’s happening. I hope you go on my blog so much that your principal or your boss comes to you like “hey! hey quit doing that. I know what you’re doing in there and it’s not good for you. you should eat something! you’re wasting away. you’re like a twig now. you’re like one of those skinny…. twigs.” thank you. thank you again. if we get one more follower, I’m going to do another post to let you know how much I care.
Actually, more evidence is coming out
"Just masked truth. like a lie."
does it bother anyone else that they’re not awesome at everything? it’s so annoying. sometimes I get so annoyed. like we have this piano and I can play some songs. effectively. I’m not good. certainly not awesome. I want to be awesome at everything. almost everything. there’s a couple things where I’m like ‘yeah.. I don’t care.’ cutting trees. I don’t need that skill. you can keep that one, universe. I don’t need to be good at giving rimjobs. should I? I don’t think that’s something that I
get a shit about. I wish I were good. not even good, good isn’t good enough. good is not perfect. I want to be perfect. like I try to write stuff and it’s not perfect. that bothers me. I don’t know why. it shouldn’t. who gives a shit. nobody’s perfect. all right, perfect is the wrong word. I don’t want to be perfect, I just want to be, like, awesome. at everything. is that so much to ask, universe? I’m a simple man. I just want to be exceptionally talented and have those talents cultivated without any effort at almost every endeavor that’s humanly possible.