- killerwhale: La Quiete is coming in December!
- me: holy crap! but it's not Raein. but it's still ok yay!
- killerwhale: La Quiete is much better
- killerwhale: and handsomer
photo by naq
silly photo of us but as mujjin says, killerwhale, his lashes & I rarely leave photographic evidence. (I added the ‘lashes’ part because… srsly)
what do you do when you’re impatient and can’t contact your favourite hairdresser?
a. go to a new place, take off glasses, leave completely blind self to hands of a stranger.
b. go to a semi-stranger who cuts short, straight hair of killerwhale, guyfriends, and shuz very well. I have long, wavy hair, and she said she had ideas. So I said okay, do whatever you want.
Once I get through the first week, I think this hair might just grow on me.
(SLAYED YOU THERE)
thekingdomblog:beautifuldirtyrich:samarmoussa:
(via thedailywhat) Comic by David Horsey
it is a little odd to me sometimes, but I do like how killerwhale couldn’t get into Twitter (he deleted it), is never free to IM, never signed up to Facebook, and of course doesn’t have a Tumblr. I envy him for that mindset sometimes. At most, our online interaction consists of exchanging links we like over email, usually Flickr photos & the occasional Youtube video.
Reblogged from thekingdomblog-deactivated20090 8 months ago / Comments
going to make killerwhale rewatch this soon. he doesn’t remember it at all. sacrilege!
7:30 alright
I planned a nap and to wake up at 7:30 before dinner plans with Tash + killerwhale at 9pm. I woke up when it was dark, thinking “ooh just in time!” but then realized it was 7:30am. FAIL. My new message ringtone is Marlon Brando meowing from Streetcar, but I should have changed my call tone as well, because I missed 37 calls. now it’s raining heavily, and I feel like an overslept loser.
from dream whip no.14
Sadness sticks around. It’s like your most reliable friend. You can be yourself around sadness. It’ll drive across country with you and it won’t complain if the food is bad or the motel has roaches. But happiness is a different story. It’s always ditching you. Leaving you stuck with the bill. There’s no one you’d rather spend your time with, and happiness knows it.
dream whip no.14 is written/illustrated by bill brown, and introduced to me by killerwhale, who tends to have the coolest things in his bag.
"You always excite me. You are my fire,"
— killerwhale, a text message, (probably romantic for all of 2 seconds & then I think we both burst into Backstreet Boys on opposite sides of the city)
anyone knows how real Ashton Kutcher + Demi Moore twitters are? I find this exchange amusing, probably even more so because they’re celebrities and shit. I imagine them in bed going “baby, I am so mad, I need to whip out my laptop and twit it, now” (‘from web’) and the other going “aw baby! I’ll join you”
if I tried this with killerwhale he’d probably throw me across the room. maybe the laptop too, but he’d regret that.
killerwhale’s eyelashes are and will always be ridiculous. and with that it’s time for me to sleep.
(photo by shuz)
currently reading. I can’t believe I hadn’t heard of Ali Smith until killerwhale introduced me to her stuff. she’s amazing, possibly my favourite writer. this is my third book of hers.
anatomy of a first.
so killerwhale and I had a fight. the first in our two years, and in the car.
it was a simple problem, and what simple problems are best at is scratching under the skin to reveal its roots. we were quiet when that happened. then we argued over those too. brief yelling, long silence, brief yelling, character assassinations laced with historical evidence, long silence, very long car ride.
(I’m sure we were both livid, and so we went at it, probably wondering why we hadn’t fought before, only disagreed. it was like we both took a couple more extra low swings while we were there to compensate for all the times we hadn’t)
we arrived where I was supposed to drop him off. he got out. I stayed in the car, singing to stupid radio songs to clear my head. I remember thinking shit, some top 40 lyricists should really be shot. and Akon had really evolved into a sex maniac, and maybe killerwhale would prefer really to give up on me. Minutes pass, probably a cigarette’s worth. he walked back. tapped on the window. I let him in. he held my hand. tried to make me laugh. I told him I usually kept cucumber eye gel in the glove compartment in my last relationship. I wasn’t sure if I should start doing that again. he said he had a feeling he couldn’t stay mad at me long, and would have been angry with himself if we left it that way. I told him I would have gone home and switched off my phone. it was just awkward, we admitted. we were out of our element.
so we went back to those roots. they were less raw now. we looked them over, figured out what to promise, apologized, promised, sealed them over, made bad jokes. it looks like it’ll hold. he offered to fill up gas. I asked for water at the gas station, he came back with the large distilled bottle instead of those measly 150ml minerals, and I smiled because he knew me so well.
I wiped my glasses on his shirt. he laughed and told us the story of the first time we met properly, at the funfair, where I had asked a ride attendant if I could borrow his shirt for that. My memory is too bad, I say.
It’s okay, I’ll be here, he said,
I’ll help you out.
via randominternet via kapikillerwhale and I do this. only he tells me about his kicks, and I translate them into x number of books in my wishlist. or food.
