After four years [my first post was on February 1st, 2010] of essentially unbroken posting, I’ve decided to retire my tumblr. I had planned to not announce this and just *disappear* but eventually decided doing so would be rude. I have a few tumblr personages who have vanished and I have always wondered if they were dead. You need not worry about such a thing with me.

I don’t particularly care to explain why, but if you really want to know, you can read my Story-Time: Ramen essay, which more or less explains where I’m coming from.

I wish everyone reading this best of luck. Have a wonderful life.


This weekend I started reading an old (a decade old or so) blog written by a ‘huge black American gaijin’ teaching English to junior high students in Japan. Gaijin Smash. It’s incredible. Here’s a small snippet from when he’s talking about frustrating culture shock with a Japanese teacher of English who’s very fond of swearing:

Ms. A: Yeah, fuckin’ sports clubs. I hate this shit. And do you know why we do it? Because the Japanese hate change. If you started just punching a Japanese guy in the nuts everyday for two weeks, the day you stop punching him in the nuts he’ll be all “hey, why aren’t you punching me in the nuts? YOU CAN’T CHANGE THE SYSTEM!”
Me: …Wow.
Ms. A: Now, I don’t have nuts, so I don’t know what it’s like to be punched in them. But working here, I think I feel the same thing emotionally. It’s like, the nutsack of my soul is being punched everyday.
Me: …Profound.
Ms. A: And do you know why I do it? Because in Japan, the only thing worse than being punched in your nutsack is being different. So I just have to stand here and be like “C’mon, punch me in the nuts!” or else I get booted to the out-group and then life really becomes hard. (heavy sigh) I really want to go back to America.
Me: Well, I keep telling you, if you think you’ll fit in the overhead storage compartment…


collections that are raw as fuck abed mahfouz s/s 2011

I’m bad at fashion shows.

I went to this fashion show once because one of the models asked me to and it was so creepy. To use the tumblr lingo: I can’t fashion show. I was more interested in the models than the clothes, but models have mastered this sort of astral projection thing where their emotions and personality have teleported to some far off land. They strut around the runway with the same determined-but-unhurried gait that I imagine a serial killer would have if she were chasing after me. With this empty smile, this far-off smile, like she knows all of the secrets of the universe. Tell me all those secrets I want to shout. But instead she turns and walks the other way, her long beautiful dress swish-swishing sexily.

(Source: vincecarters)



"Slytherins can’t be brave," Please allow me to direct your attention to Regulus Black, and his storyline which was so conveniently left out of the movies.

And basically the last book as well!

I was so excited about Deathly Hallows. I was like, who is this R.B. fellow? How is Harry going to fare without his Occlumency lessons? Who was looking back at him in the mirror?!

And then 300 pages of hanging out in the forest while all the exciting stuff is happening off the page. ALRIGHT THANKS.

Today I learned that Michael Bay is making the new Ninja Turtles movie, and I was so excited. Michael Bay’s movies are terrible if you expect them to be anything other than Michael Bay movies. But I love Michael Bay. He always delivers exactly what he promises. I had a friend once, a dear writer friend, and I know her style anywhere. Any single line that she writes I can recognize as hers. Michael Bay is like that. I always know it’s him, and that’s a comforting thought.


The Entropy of Love

love is like stumbling upon a sandcastle on an abandoned beach. pure amazement. how can it be so wonderful and is it really yours to have? how can it have survived the tides so far? nevertheless you enter it and you discover that it is a portal to another sandcastle on another planet where the sand is purple instead of red and the nearby trees bear pineapples intstead of mangos. but it is the same castle. you love it, and you love the creator, and you love your love because the abandoned beach is long long long. Of course, love like everything else must obey the laws of the universe. the entropy of love tells us that the tides will begin to wear down the sandcastle but we don’t need to talk about that. cobwebs and ruins has its own charm.

Mm, I ought to change my avatar. A friendly crayon dinosaur sticking out its tongue! But it doesn’t fit. But I haven’t the heart to change it. That seems like a pretty good summary of my existence. So maybe it does fit after all.

I imagine a girl in a white dress in a wide concrete tunnel. She’s not the type of girl you’d mess with. She has badass tats and a katana strapped to her back. Maybe not. But it might as well be. Anyway, I imagine this girl walking down this concrete tunnel and I think she has something important to say. Something that when she utters it will change everything for her. I don’t know what this is. In 28 years, I haven’t learned what the magic words are. I feel rather betrayed about this. Rather disappointed. Sometimes I think there are no magic words. Anyway, the badass girl in a white dress with the tattoo of Oroborous on her left shoulder blade is in a concrete tunnel at night and she’s got something important to say. But - and this is where I feel very sad - she doesn’t say it. Of course she doesn’t. Who the fuck says the most important thing to the darkness? Who proposes to the stars? Who writes out their suicide letter in invisible ink? No, no, she keeps on walking and everywhere around her there is silence.


It’s like the people who believe they’ll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn’t work that way. Wherever you go, you take yourself with you.
 Neil GaimanThe Graveyard Book (via taotechill)


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