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Asshole on a roof.
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☛ The Magazine: Staying Power by John Moltz
Yes, there’s no denying that Dog 1.0 is highly popular, and you may be considering purchasing one for yourself. But is it all it’s cracked up to be? While it continues to enjoy wide popularity, serious flaws and design issues bring into question whether or not this product was fit for release.
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This little dude is called the Least Weasel.
I guess that’s because it’s the smallest weasel, but still, I feel kinda sad for the guy. I mean, it’s a crappy name, isn’t it? Least. He looks pretty great to me, all dapper and sparky and smart, not the least at all. That kind of a name is going to give anyone an inferiority complex, poor guy. Maybe there’s a Most Weasel, which is big and gruff and kind of a bully, a showoff, all “Hey look at me, I’m the Most Weasel bro, get outta my way” and the little Least Weasel is all like “Hmm, I wish I was the most and folks would look up to me and get outta my way when I told them too rather than tripping over me the whole damn time”. Maybe.
Hey Least Weasel, I think you’re super cute. The most super cute weasel there is.
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At last: summer.
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Some days you wake up and say to yourself, “I’m puttin’ on my sweatpants, takin’ off my shirt, and headin’ downtown to nail some broads.”
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Oh snooze button, I wish I knew how to quit you.
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Tiny butterfly, what are you doing? You cannot suck delicious nectar from my wrist, I am not a flower.
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“Everyone has a place in history. Mine is clouds.”
Richard Brautigan
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It’ll take more, a lot more, than sunshine and Corona to cheer me up, but it’s a start.
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I just watched Les Miserables.
I’ve never cried so much during a film while trying, unsuccessfully, to sing. Also, lots of fine Rioja. Also, and more importantly, I am English, so crying about French people being sad makes me feel confused. Also, I’m in love with Anne Hathaway. Shut up.
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Hiding in the azalea, adoring the laburnum, needing plants and nature and stuff right now.
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I got him into trouble over the whole Christopher Walken Twitter thing. Or he got himself into trouble. That was us. That was me. That was him. Holy shit, we laughed. Where are you T? I will not be gentle about this. I will not sweetly RIP him. You fucker, what the hell? I can’t stop crying. Come back. Right the fuck now. I will rage against this and I will not be quieted. Fuck that.
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He said one day he would dance with me. We never did. We never danced.
Fuck it. Fuck it all.
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“Tattynuckle Tortington”
My writer friend is trying out Dragon Dictation for his novel. It’s not what he intended, but it is poetry:
“Yes that’s what I was thinking about. Massarellas post and write a little T-shirt type action a few months human. You didn’t really guess.
Maybe we should talk to the rest of them. Tattynuckle Tortington intern. It’s probably only a matter of time before they start talking to each other.
Told you, they already know. I content.
Maybe, you know you’re probably right. Maths stared at this evening. The oldest room looked there”
