Follow Your Passion: A Seamless Tumblr Journey
Cloudy day, windy
Your boss' makin a loss
But I told you I'd never eaten this kind of ice cream before
And now I'm back for a second helping
First day it was sunny and I was in a good mood
Today I got no such excuse
The word "smile" is overused by corporate and music that's gentrification misspelled
So I'll commit the greatest rebellion of the industry:
You just looked at me.
Desperate claws in a sunny smile I've trained to be a good customer to the service
I ask you if I should take a cup or cone, your opinion
Well, it's my choice
But you can give me a little more in a cup.
I laugh too loud. Answer too loud. You're making money, I'm spending money.
'i hope to see you again, miss.'
That's not part of the script.
They don't say miss here.
I understand people that believe in a religion. Isn't every sunset that's partially hidden by an average day's clouds proof of the devine?
Oh my god I'm listening to California Dreamin' with headphones and. Did you know it's one of those songs that are hardcore spliced up between headphones. Like the female and male voices are mostly coming from seperate headphones.
This makes no difference except for a cool listening experience unless. Unless you take one headphone out.
Ohhh, there's still the faintest echo of the female voices in the male voices' headphone, but half the instruments are missing. It's haunting. It's majestic. It's Denny in a old rehearsal room. It's not really a designated space, it's the backroom of their bar. They jokingly used to call it the backstage area. It's wooden panels that were never glossy. It's Michelle and Cass on old stools with cheap cider. It's Denny alone. It's Denny's guitar, with John's handwriting on its side. It's an empty room that's not used to being empty. You know when rooms sound the most loud when there's supposed to be a hundred sounds and you know every one of them? You think you can hear it out of pure fate.
He can only play as many instruments as his hands can hold. But he plays them as well as ever. There's no tremble in his fingers. He can definitely hear Cass. He can almost see John. When he closes his eyes, he can believe they're through the door, in the bar. Hearing him play. Singing back to him.
California dreaming. On such a winter's day
Yesterday was a bad day, my apartment was too quiet. Too empty. There was nothing, nothing.
Then suddenly I was turning on lights and they were the perfect shade of yellow and the music from my little speaker hit me so hard I almost cried in the kitchen and those socks I bought kept my feet warm and my warmed-up tortellini were so good with the scrapes of my mom's pesto.
I listened to Billie Eilish and Hozier and The Neighborhood and suddenly they were just people.
Sometimes I lay in bed terrified that I'll stop feeling. Yesterday was not that day.
I'm an intern and my job is to enter addresses from hand-written letters into the database and did you know that Joshua Neumann from Hermannstreet 4, Cologne, has a life too
Oh
He's a principal in a small town. I googled it.
A mid-50s couple donated 100 dollars to our cause and I said that's very generous of you and he shrugged and said is it really
Oh
I guess it isn't really. Not for us.
When I came back after New Year the woman I've been working a lot with saw me in the office kitchen and hugged me.
I googled a scrawled address to decipher it and the town was so pretty I'm going to go there on a day trip with some friends. By train. Like we did 2 years ago.
You know what I'm saying, you know it.
I have a beautiful friend. Half a year younger than me, with almond eyes and skin maybe two to three shades darker than caramel. Dusty sunset. It reminds me of spices and the billowing fumes of a barista coffee machine.
She has Columbian heritage, with glossy, thick black hair and long eye lashes. Dark eyes, bright teeth. She laughs big, smiles wide. The slight figure of a doe. She gets excited about everything. She's naive. She's adorable. She wants to explore.
She's beautiful, everyone tells her. She's terrified.
My friend sees the eyes. Of course she does. They're not admiring. They're predatory. She wears who she is on her sleeve, and she's a wondering, easily amazed person. She wants to be happy. Oh, have you ever heard of a better rape victim.
She wants to kiss someone. She wants to be in a relationship, with cuddles and pinky finger promises. She wants to be desired.
We smile. We watch her drink. We make sure she gets home afterwards.
Beauty is a lot of things. But I'd wager to say that no matter if you've carefully cultivated it yourself, were born into it, want it, use it, hate it, are aware of it
Broken down, all social veneers and descriptors stripped away,
It attracts attention.
Oh, Silvia Plath was right.
Yes, I almost cried feeling cold air on my face in the morning
It made me so happy when I bought three different spices for my tea yesterday.
But please, don't make me find pleasure in the little things. I need those adventures.
I need love, and life. I need big moments with dresses on fire. I need to know that life is big magic, too. I need real tears of joy and explosions.
I know, you're talking of awe. But it feels like you're extending an aiding hand to stroke my hair.
To make a pastel colour not look so muted.
I want it all
I want the princess blue and the nutcracker red
Is that okay? I'd take both, thank you. Here's the change.
you know what, screw falling uncontrollably in love. Nah man. I want to meet your eyes across the room for the first time and start grinning. A slow, spreading smirk. I want to think 'oh, you bastard. I've been waiting for you. Hello.' and I want you to smirk back.