Good Night and Good Luck.

"I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day." This is a blog of my late night thoughts. I'm not claiming to be a poet or fancy writer, but I like to believe I am some nights.

[nighttexts]

I want to see someone.  Anyone would do.

[nighttexts]

Sure, things can get better, but they haven't and I've only gotten worse.

[hellanne]

Why does the mind do such things? Turn on us, rend us, dig the claws in. If you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. Maybe it’s much the same.

Margaret Atwood (via hellanne)

[nighttexts]

I wish I could write you pretty words, or draw you beautiful art, or compose songs for you.  But I’m terribly mediocre at those things and I hate that so much.

[nighttexts]

You know how you make a list in your head of what you find attractive.  Like the key points of a person that you would fall in love with.  Sometimes it’s not even a definable list, it’s just there lingering in the back of your mind.  Then, out of nowhere, someone comes along that makes you throw out that list like it never existed.  What a wonderful surprise you were.

[jaythemaniac-deactivated2016030]

People will kill you over time, and how they’ll kill you is with tiny, harmless phrases, like “be realistic.”

Dylan Moran (via joshschroll)

[nighttexts]

Why is it that you get caught by every stoplight when you aren’t going anywhere in particular?  It’s normal to get stopped by them when you are in a hurry to get somewhere, but it is agonizing to be stuck at a red light in the dead of night.   Your mistress that you ride long and hard unquestionably has been beset by the rash of stoplights.  Your thoughts that you were trying to out run on the road 50 miles per hour behind you.  When that god forsaken red light ceases your journey, the world is at a standstill.  A demon with fiery LED eyes cauterizing your retinas as you can’t escape its wrath.  Rapture by Blondie is now creeping from the radio to your ears.

Man from Mars.

I will punch you right in the fucking mouth, Blondie.  You’re gripping the steering wheel laboriously.  Squeeze.  Release.  Squeeze.  Release.  Your irises are locked onto the burning red circles, but the rest of your vision spazzes and shakes in an epileptic fit.  I imagine this is how a fly would see with its sixty-some tiny eyeballs.

Man from Mars.

You’re practically sobbing now.  Why won’t the light change?  Why don’t you just go through the light?  No one is around anyway to see.  No, the gate is barred.  You’re possessed.  You can’t bear to move until it turns green.

Man from Mars.

And in one joyous moment, the entire world weeps at this despair and has had about as much as it as they can handle, much less what you’ve dealt with. Trumpets blare; Angels ring out one long holy note; Jesus gives you two thumbs up.  It’s green.  You are practically driving over the precious woman hood of a thousand virgins as you roll through that intersection.

[nighttexts]

Don’t you hate when you have a dream with a particular someone and then forget what the dream was about? But that particular someone you still remember, just not the rest of what happened in the dream. So when you wake up, that particular someone was weighing down on your consciousness. As if they had become so important to you, they barge right back into your mind and memories. It’s almost unsettling.

[nighttexts]

I watched the sun rise today.  The soft orange glow pushing away the dark.  That’s how you make me feel.

[bey-lee]

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

Franz Kafka (via shoofiestevens)

[sister-sunday]

What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis (via fernsandmoss)

[nighttexts]

I like mouths.  I stare at people’s mouths a lot.  I wish most people didn’t see kissing as such an intimate thing.  I’m just curious.  Everyone has a different taste, a different curve of their lips, some are rough and some soft.  I’m just curious about how some people kiss.  I want to be naked, limbs intertwined, and just kissing.

Yeah, that’s what I’d like right now.

[nighttexts]

One thing I like about cold weather is when someone is like, “my hands are so cold,” and puts them on your face.  Then you bat them away and act annoyed that they had the nerve to make you feel colder.  But I like hands.  Touching, holding, examining them.  I especially like it when they are cold because then every touch seems even more magnified when they are cold.  Hands are so personal and very unique about a person.  They can tell a story with a single touch.

[nighttexts]

I don’t understand how some people can smoke menthol cigarettes.  If I wanted my throat, mouth, and lungs to feel like ice, I’d chew some spearmint gum and drink cold water.  I like the burning feeling of my full flavors.  It’s a lot like the chest aching feeling you get when you care for someone.  That’s such a lovely feeling.