gravity, avoirdupois

why did every child love colouring their lips and tongues with candy? we’re in our 20s but we still do. humid tropical nights downstairs in the dining room of my mother’s house. we play with cats and diablo III. we make tea and talk about our days, our atmosphere and our decisions. he comes over after work, we go out for dinner with friends but wind down back in this house with each other until he has to drive home. I think my mother likes him. It feels like a high school relationship but with better conversations. I’ll only be free from student life in August, but suffering until then is easy when loving someone is so much fun.

In bed with (R-L): my mother’s spaghetti in a tupperware, a favourite cult T-shirt, my first zit in months, the first book I’m reading now that my finals are over, and my cat Pervert, as ever by my side. I’m ready for the weekend, TGIF bitches

working in a weekend team means the action climbs upwards through the week— as opposed to the other way around for the rest of the office— and then the earth shakes on Friday. I’m starting to forget what Friday night air feels like. I’m kind of bolstered against Thursday’s stress today though; strategy: disappearing into snug giant jacket.

I love snail mail! New York lunch cart postcard! Thank you golfcake!

I’ve turned a little browner lately. I suspect it fucks with my laptop’s chi. Photobooth is giving a slight & special touch of jaundice to everything. In other news, I’m really happy this just came in the mail. Loving you hard, bookdepository. 

gpoyw, I give you sleazy tired face.

belated GPOYW. Well thrilled to be in BKK for the first time (Dec 2010).

PS: I need more friends in Bangkok!

FREE FRENCH PRESS?! Who CARES if I don’t get paid to perform poetry at coffee joints?!

“how dare you say such a thing to me”

gpoy… tuesday. let’s just pretend its wednesday if that bugs you.

don’t mess, this is the shit. six buckets, three kinds of flavour. three in the fridge, and three in the freezer.

true stalkers would figure out that I haven’t been on tumblr lately, and have moved somewhere that doesn’t attempt to quantify my blogging experience with numbers. I’m also enjoying life with over half of my hair chopped off.

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)

super awesome vintage book find: three Albert Camus titles (The Fall, The Rebel, Resistance Rebellion & Death), Alexandor Solzhenitsyn’s One Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich, and an old-school Bahasa book called Kisah Pelayaran Abdullah with sexy blue cover. psyched!

Posting Photobooth photos irrelevant to post is easier than getting photos out of my camera (a process riddled with obstacles).

Ratatat was tight as hale! It’s 6pm and I’ve just recovered from last night’s lethargy and damage to my eardrums. For an hour I was an inch away from the speakers. It would have been 100% worth it… if they had been allowed to play an encore. It only would have been Seventeen Years. Seventeen Years.

If a tree falls in the forest and didn’t play Seventeen Years, would you be fully satisfied in claiming you saw it fall?