watching election returns, and I swear I’d dreamt last night: ‘RuPaul turns to the BCNDP Caucus: “Now Don’t Fuck It Up.”’
>I did today
- seven minute interview
- twenty minutes of transcription
- two hours of geoguessr
- seven hours on my bed
tied to the poster-bed at this nigh PST hour
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goulish
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tumblr-self and twitter-self have diverged, wholly.
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Middle-aged Dutch tourist hitting up scally adidas drabbed teens on the Seabus, 3:49 PM, April 20. Wife stares North out the aft windows (but the Seabus docks in both directions, does nautical lingo apply), he flicks between silly English and silly noise (Dutch?). I’m headed to work, no tuning into the expository for me.
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The Bliss of Grass, Anna Pugh
(Source: thelittleexistence, via gebben)
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