IT’S SO SEXY. It’s like, “Look, my hair can be innocent AND sexy.” If I were a girl I would want hair like that.
Isn’t it? It’s like the epitome of both. It looks way better than in her last video, which was the first with the short hair. It’s called All About Tonight.
It’s funny how everything seems sensible in the moonlight.
I stood with the window square in front of me.
Showdown. Each of us immovable.
I inhaled, and felt the chill travel down each inch of my spine.
My toes were nestled in the carpet, safe.
But tonight was not time for safe, it was time for free.
Everything was in crisp focus as I reached out,
Caressed the edge of the screen,
Lifted the edge of the screen gently,
Held the edge of the screen as I set it on the floor.
Summer wafted into the room,
But I was sure it was the moonbeams moving the curtains.
I could feel them hit me, dead in the chest,
Infinitely powerful, immeasurably gentle.
I clambered out of the window,
All pale skin and lanky limbs,
And stood on the warm tar of the shingles in my underwear.
The great old oak tree across the street whispered to me.
The stars winked at me, just out of my reach.
The cars on the highway whistled to me in the distance.
The galleon was moored on the gable.
The crew of one waited in the rolling current,
His ship bobbing curiously over the front lawn.
I scaled the rough slope, and as I neared,
I was bathed in the warm glow of the sails.
Dreams, he said. They’re made of dreams.
I made them myself, actually.
I stood silently for a moment, contemplating.
Is there room for one more?
I mean, are you taking passengers tonight?
He glared at me, his eyes narrowing.
Of course. Whom do you take me for?
There’s always room for one more.
Then the tension was gone. He laughed wholly,
Lost in his own little joke, echoing across my safe suburbia.
Unmoored, we drifted slowly, drifted pensively.
The galleon hung over the cul-de-sac.
My cat pushed his nose to the glass as we floated away.
I waved back, and he pressed his paw to the pane,
Mirroring my own hand.
A gust lifted us lightly, suddenly, and we cleared the roofline.
Tonight was a time for free.
troyisred asked: My creative writing class requires me to bring in copies, (for the class to read), my favorite poem by someone other than myself. I don't really go about reading poems from famous people, so I don't have many professional things to choose from. But after much consideration, I think The Galleon might just be my favorite. I relate to it somehow. Would you be okay with me bringing in copies for my class or no?
Yes, yes, a hundred times yes!
You have no idea how flattered I am right now. Let me repost the newest version for you, with all the last edits in there.
PSH, if I were you, I’d stare as much as I like. They’re running, you’re on a bike. Stare to your hearts content, it’s not like they’d be able to catch you if they wanted to.
I’m gonna be the one to say: pics or it didn’t happen. C’mon, you know you want to!
See but guys it’s like super awks because there were like seven of them. If it were like two or three, maybe, but there’re just so many and it’s weird.
So I’ll just admire from a safe velocity.
WELL I’M GLAD YOU ASKED
Except then it was raining.
But all was not lost! It was sort of sprinkling, but it looked like it was clearing up, so Jayce’s mother asked if we would help dry the courts, which turned out to be a lot more work than I think Dan or I expected. Fast-forward an hour-and-a-half, and we had dried all eight courts, and it was finally sunny.
So then I proceeded to spend the rest of the day at the tournament, eating, observing, and (in my case) falling asleep.
Finally, at like 8:30, once everything was done, Dan, Jayce, Kara (who I hear has a Tumblr somewhere), and I decided to for dinner at Perkin’s. Turns out we had breakfast instead. Much Mean Girls lulz were had, including participation from our very attractive waiter Randy, who honest-to-goodness did this in the middle of the restaurant:
And that’s all!
Did I mention attractive waiter.
troyisred replied to your video: f(x) - Hot Summer Ugh just! Just stop! Stop being…
On Youtube, I can watch this fine. On Tumblr, it’s not available in my country. TUMBLR IS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT COUNTRY FROM THE REST OF THE INTERNET.
troyisred replied to your post: Cue people saying they knew Pumped Up Kicks BEFORE…
I… Uh… *covers up when I posted a song by them back in May* I really don’t think they’re that bad, though Pumped Up Kicks isn’t their best. And what’s bad about mainstream music? If it’s good, like it, if not, don’t. Mainstream is nothing.
Can we please have a round of applause for Best Thing Said All Day?
“And what’s bad about mainstream music? If it’s good, like it, if not, don’t.”
-kotori answered: short storyyyy
r0yalewithcheese answered: your boobies
troyisred answered: Short story! It’s been a while since we’ve seen some of your writing. Although r0yalewithcheese’s suggestion is fine too.
thelostfinch answered: Arlo, Arlo, Arlo. Please!
jtem answered: Talk about the weather.
Three votes for short story, two votes for boobies, and one for the weather….
Short story it is!
OKAY NEXT POST I WILL TELL YOU ABOUT MY WHOLE LIFE. MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE.
So sorry, Angus! I’ll do some kind of FAQ post in the near future! Though, meanwhile, I suppose, come up with questions that you want me to answer.
Because nobody asks me the same question frequently enough to make it a frequently-asked question.