Why? Why not. This is a list of my honest to goodness top 5 dream girls. Don’t be disappointed if you are not of the list…there is always time.
This extra… from Snow’s music video ‘informer’. Nothing to really say. I don’t know her name, but I saw this video as a kid and never forgot the girl. She’s a solid 5 IMO, or an old fashioned blind pick. You don’t know what you are getting and the mystery is a bonus.
Laura from ‘family matters’. Now, obviously Laura is played by an actress. That’s not the point of a dream girl list: rationality and such. Laura was the perfect blend of strong and sweet and watching the show as a kid I was always happy when she turned Urkel down.
Some Spanish girl I was in love with in 11th grade. I don’t want to say her name because I mean…high school reunion possibilities. Just thinking about this makes me feel weird and now I am remembering this one time we walked home and I could smell her sweat—let’s move on.
Elisabeth Shue. I don’t know what it is about her, but I would take her over a Katy Perry or Jennifer Lawrence without much regret.
Miss Honey from Matilda. I forgot about miss honey, the ultimate sweet and perfect and kind angel suitable for being a grail maiden. I just watched the Amazing Spider Man 2 and got floored with a lost desire, stolen by Mnemosyne. Sure, maybe a Miss Honey doesn’t actually exist, and sure, maybe one of the reasons I don’t stay in relationships long is that I am a fuckin’ weirdo who makes arbitrary lists like this; but I like to believe I am just waiting for a Miss Honey.
My refrigerator light has been broken for 6 years, I don’t care ’cause the box is near empty all year; so I don’t really need to see in the dark, to know I have bread ends and empty peanut butter jars. However, lazy as I may be and cheap, I never bothered to replace the glass bead and light the thing up. Classic human, I keep things unseen, unseen.
That was until a day long ago, when opening the door I was met with a strange glow–the bulb had awoken and with full force, made orange light on the crumbs and syrup. “Weird,” I said, and paid it no mind to run back to some game of Dragon Nest pvp. Alas, the next time I opened the door to my fridge, the light was unsparked.
But over the past six years, at random times, my ghost light returns for a minute at most, just enough time to grab the butter for my toast. When I close the door, I know, there is a good chance it will be dark the next; but more so I know, no matter how much time falls with sand and hope, the light will remain, dormant.
In ten ten million years when Belop the Garzin, digs my fossilized fridge from some deep ravine, and cracks open the hinges, the light will come on…for a few minutes.
My book Democracy is free on amazon for kindle until December 1st DEMOCRACY – PETER BLACK
If you sometimes hate the world, feel without purpose or direction, it might be the type of story you can get into.
a story about two regular guys that want to have a simple and peaceful life: work a farm, live off the land–that stuff. Before kicking off, they decide to take a little revenge or deal out a little justice. A story about society, wants, and barriers between people in the modern world.
I like / hate when people worry so much about word count in their writing. First of all, if you are just a regular old person writing to write, what does it matter if you write 10 words or 2000 a day? Sure, it would be great if you could spit out 2k np and stay productive, but is it worth making yourself feel bad? I see so many people down on themselves because they went two days without writing 4000 words. It is really not a big deal.
I think the only people who actually should worry about word count are publishers. They want their signed writers to keep writing and reach deadlines…but if you are already at that level of success, hell, they don’t care what the words are, as long as they fill out the page.
Everyone, chill out on the word count. What’s the point in writing if you are measuring everything down to the word and forcing yourself on to reach some arbitrary numbered finish line? It is supposed to be fun.
In passing conversation today my younger brother asked if my grandfather returned from the dentist. “No,” I said.
“Do you think he’ll get pain pills?”
“He never takes them,” I replied, as my grandfather: old cut garb acts like treating pain removes manliness.
“If he does, I’ll ask for them,” my brother announced.
“To sell them on the streets so I can get enough money to buy weed or pokemon Y.”
“You just sold pokemon y.”
“I know and it was a waste because that Kratom was so expensive.”
I let the topic go, but he brought up, “I want to go to the dentist.” I wonder why…
“Why,” I played along.
“To get pain pills.”
“They only give those out if you get a tooth pulled.”
“I know, that’s why I’ve been drinking a lot of soda lately and swishing it around my teeth.”
I could not ask anything else. Did he really aim to get a cavity so bad a tooth needed to be pulled, so he could go to the dentist, waste that money for that; pay for a prescription for Hydrocodone (22 pills) and sell them on the street AND make like nothing?
He has to be fucking with me, but I’m afraid to bring it up again.