Big bottom, Big bottom. Talk about bum cakes, My gal's got 'em.

I feel as if everyday I find myself thinking that this day is the last of its kind, and if nothing else, that says something about everything.

Quotes, Clips, Phrases and the Meaning of Life

- My, how the hype has ruined our love
- Why is it that we say congratulations when we know our friends are making bad decisions?

- He has to get drunk to get girls, especially the one he loves.
- Why is it that nobody ever says anything, but we all constantly talk about the fact that there’s so much to say?

- We’re not. We’re just getting good at hating each other.
- Do you think any of us are having fun?

- Her entire life is a slew of catered occasions.
- Is it my fault or theirs that the invitations have simply stopped coming?

- Anyway, I wanted to talk about the now.
- Were we as bottled up as the rest of them, or was what we were doing way back when actually something different?

- You just be the educated rebel that you need to be
- Why is it that we try to continually live up to the expectations set by our younger more adventurous selves?

- When it was recalled on the television set we pretended like we ignored the message, then when it broke I suppose we kept it for the fours years after that just to spite them.
- Which one do you like more, because this one is cheaper, not that that matters, but that’s all I’m saying is that this particular model costs less than the other more expensive one.

- She never tells the story anymore, but there was a period of time in her life when it was classy to talk about losing her virginity to an inanimate object.
- Have you heard about her yet? She’s not like all the other girls.

- All of my art projects from first to eighth grade miraculously turned into ashtrays every time my nicotine-addicted grandmother would come over unexpected. I suppose my parents have always been better than me at finding a purpose for my dabbling in assigned and organic creativity.
- Why is it so much easier to remember the things that really don’t matter that much anymore?

- Blank page
- Why aren’t the good ideas coming as often as they did in the past?

- There were drinks, drugs and awkward silences at the stoplights.
- Why is it that telling a friend’s story about a night you weren’t around for is sometimes better than telling your own story? And for some reason or another it especially gets easier when you realize that you’re barely friends with that person anymore?

- I have a lack of motivation to apologize
- Does that make me far from normal or is it the other way around?

- The many subtle loves of my life.
- Do they keep topping each other, or is it more so a matter of falling out of touch, whether the act be self-inflicted or coincidentally a part of the bigger picture?

- I’d say that on any given day it’s not completely ridiculous to think about your own funeral and furthermore who would show up to it, given the time and context. By that same token, it’s also okay to think about the type of speech of you would give if your high school ever asked you back as one of “those people,” and furthermore to look through your yearbook and wonder which of those smiling faces would go to your funeral and vice-versa, and finally, the concept of faking your own death, just to see who cared enough to make an appearance for the food and possibly conversation.
- Have I really lived at all or was everything just something occasionally worth writing down?

- Every time I think about how much a waste of time this is, I end up casually reassuring myself that possibly it’s all a matter of interpretation and misunderstanding.
- Is anybody really listening?

I never asked about her illnesses... that's not really something I ask about. From what I've picked up, she needs new teeth because of her bad gums, she has a heart condition, and something is wrong with her gallbladder. Her right arm has a huge scar on it from a car accident and she is unable to feel with her right pinky and ring finger, and this has prevented her from being able to do pottery like she used to. Apparently she spent a whole year high on vicodin, she tells me she doesn't remember much of that year, and I do believe she was into some pretty hard stuff when she was a young teenager.

tiny symbols of something

The first was in New York City. Two was in the garden. Three, Philadelphia Street. Four was in the Chinese restaurant parking lot.
If you shed one thing, let it be the better parts that cover you and keep you safe. Those are the things someone might dare to pick up. You both have to be really brave.

everytimeithinkimsickiconvincemyselfthatillneverbeabletogetbetterandthatiwouldneverfeelwhatitwasliketobehealthyagain