I wish I could write poetry so I could talk about my feelings and no one would know what I was talking about.

it was recently brought to my attention that I write like a left handed person.  isnt that fucking scary?

ive been keeping my delicates in a reusable chanukah themed shopping bag for nearing a year due to lack of storage space

last night i ordered a spicy pork burrito from a local, allegedly, authentic mexican restaurant. i was rather surprised to find large slabs of carrots littered throughout, assuming it was regional? come to find out its not traditional...however if you accidentally order the vegetarian burrito and never notice that there in fact is no spicy pork...

at 24 years old i still take advice from dear coke talk


oh and star charts

ive moved back to my original space. ill either be impaled or i wont right?

i have legitimately changed sides of the bed that i sleep on for fear of the picture frame. it has been worth it.

in other news i am drowning myself in 60s nyc culture. if i kill myself or get head lice that is why.