Sometimes I shop for houses I can’t afford in cities I don’t live it
Today's Document
taylor price
The Stonewall Inn
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YOU ARE THE REASON
noise dept.
EXPECTATIONS
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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$LAYYYTER
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Love Begins
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@hysteria-strange
Sometimes I shop for houses I can’t afford in cities I don’t live it
there’s nothing quite like mocking someone’s trust issues in order to attempt to help those trust issues.
that’s not how that works my dude
I used to think that infidelity was the worst way to end a relationship. How wrong I was. How I envy my past self for such a thought.
It’s been a year and a half and I’m still struggling to process the effects that it has created in me. The nightmares, the unexpected triggers, the panic, the unending need for answers that aren’t coming. Unmanageable.
Sometimes it seems that the best way to heal is to move on, find another, but the difficulty of the search makes it more trouble than it’s worth. Finding true compatibility already seemed like a mathematical impossibility before I was broken. Do impossibilities have different sizes, the way that infinities do in mathematics? I have managed to reach a larger impossibility.
When I do find a rare option, even when it seems quite promising, the butterflies quickly turn to fear. How can I trust this stranger? How will they hurt me? How can I possibly open this wound again when it still hasn’t healed fully, when it breaks open again unexpectedly so often?
How can I find the capability to trust again?
How can I ask anyone, expect anyone, to handle me with kid gloves, to make the attempt, when there might not be anything in me capable of loving again? Who am I to ask for such a leap of faith, when I know I’m not capable of making the same leap? How can I expect monogamy when I feel incapable of a real relationship?
What do I have to offer? A seemingly permanently broken heart? A tangle of insecurities that can never be secured?
I’ll keep staring wistfully from the safety of distance, partially wishing I still had hope, mostly knowing that I’m better off alone, that solitude is safety. Giving in to loneliness creates a certain sort of comfort.
A week ago I compared the current protests in the States to early stages of Les Miserables and was told because there are no barricades it doesn’t count.
CAAAAAN YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SIIIINGING
Life hack: Don’t put plastic straws down your sink disposal. Don’t put Starbucks drink topper... spill stick... things... down your sink disposal.
I thought this was common sense, but, apparently, it is not.
Story time.
I don’t want to point fingers, but also I’m totally pointing fingers at the only other apartment that shares this kitchen wall. I’ve lived here for a year. The lady who lived here for 5 years before me now lives downstairs and helps out with maintenance stuff in the building. I highly, highly doubt she would have been dumb enough to do this shit.
It wasn’t just one straw, this was not a case of, “oops, it went down the drain, I don’t want to put my hand in to get it, let’s just run it and see what happens.”
It was a lot of straws. It was 8-10 straws and most of them were green and looked like Starbucks cold drink straws. It was at least 4 stopper things... what are those things are called that they put in hot drinks when you go through the Starbucks drive thru? I’m sure there’s a name for them.
I didn’t count. I should have saved all of it and counted and taken a picture. Alas.
I can see grinding up eggshells, or coffee grounds, shit that you shouldn’t put down there at all, but it’s easier to see why you would make that mistake.
But I don’t understand the straws. I really didn’t understand when the 5th or 6th came popping out of the drain in the non-disposal side of my sink, and then just kept coming. But when the stopper things started popping out... they’re hard plastic. Like, really hard plastic. Shit that would break a high powered blender. You could sharpen down one of those things and stab someone.
The guy that came to look at it has to come back tomorrow because the 80 pounds of pressure in the pump (I held down plugs on both sides of my sink when he was pumping in the other apartment, feels like I got a full upper body workout) he was using wasn’t clearing the clog. The snake didn’t clear the clog. He said there’s patching on the wall under her sink where it looks like it’s been taken apart before and sealed up again, and he’s going to take apart the wall again to see where the clog is and remove it.
...Which heavily implies that she’s done this before. The straw lady strikes again.
What I want to know is what is still in there that didn’t come out after all of the chemicals, the pump, and the super long snake couldn’t get loose. Rocks? Bones? A human skull? Car parts? Iron bars? Diamonds?
If you can’t chew it, don’t put it down the disposal.
Stay tuned.
I started streaming WoW on twitch. 👀
How am I supposed to throw away the stimulus check amazon boxes when the cats are enjoying them so much??
My phone recognizes me with oversized sunglasses but not a face mask. Okaaaay.
When your job is like “we want you back bby” 3 weeks before quarantine is supposed to end...
😒
I went down a Onision rabbit hole this week (thanks to compilations I’m not contributing as revenue) and I have one question I can’t find an answer to. Why does he pour soda over his head when he’s having a tantrum? Is there some sort of backstory to this, is it referencing something?
Morning birdsong is the new lullaby
There’s something charming about pre-dawn light. However the amount charm is entirely dependent on whether you’re going to bed to that light or waking up to that light.
It’s been a month. I think? I don’t know what day it is. Is it still April?
I’m waking and sleeping almost exactly opposite to my work schedule.
I can either try to go to bed at a reasonable hour (how) or I continue this pattern of staying up a little later every night and eventually I’ll cycle back to waking up at 5am and sleeping at 10pm.
The infant downstairs is not enjoying quarantine.