I can’t believe I’m actually considering quitting cigarettes. Fuck.
— This is it, Joel. It’s going to be gone soon.
— I know.
— What do we do?
— Enjoy it.
Two trains are fighting outside my window.
This town is lovely, yes.
A breeze in the curtains?
I’m using a countertop-mount meat grinder to crack open some pecans, because it occurred to me I have no meat save bacon, and why grind up bacon?
Though suddenly I’m wondering about ground bacon. Would it be like bacon bits, but real? Or would it be like dog food, but not gross? Like crumbled meatloaf… Meat hashbrown.
…anyway, I just discovered I can crack them just by squeezing two in my hand, which is neat.
I’m eating the same thing as a southern squirrel right now. Weird.
I WORK AT A FUCKING THEATRE, WHY COULDNT MY FAMILY HAVE BEEN OIL BARONS INSTEAD OF CASKET BUILDERS I CANT AFFORD A CUTE COTTAGE fuck
I really wanted to respond to the follower-fucking ask with “this dick’s spoken for” but it sounded too cocky.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is a favorite, as is Science of Sleep (thank you Michel Gondry). Like Crazy is a relatively new favorite of mine, which renewed my faith in drinking scotch with a girl who won’t immediately throw it up. Really, those are the only three that immediately come to mind, so we’ll say those are them.