#ali macofsky

[dreamsthatbindsus]

Remember the time when we were jealous about Ali Macofsky?

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

[spikyseasponge]

#swag

[gina-wesome]

Maybe he doesn't want a girlfriend right now? I don't get the big deal

Absolutely no big deal here. It would be pretty difficult to maintain a healthy relationship being constantly on the road.

And to be honest I think even if he had one we wouldn’t necessarily know about it. I mean look at the reaction Ali is getting because of that one photo

People scare me sometimes😟

[georgethechen]

Nov 2nd

GIANT ROBOT COMEDY NIGHT

Comedy First Thursday of every month!

free comedy on Sawtelle

hosted by George Chen, Jesses Elias, and Jessica Sele.

show starts at 8:15 pm

with a killer lineup

Felicia Folkes, Chris Estrada, Brendan Lynch, Ali Macofsky, Alexa Loftus

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

[danielriddlerodriguez]

EPITHALAMIUM WITH INVENTORY —Melissa Crowe I had a moon—did you?—and a sky to keep it in and a forest wide as night and winking with eyes. I had mornings—​ did you have mornings?—and a sun to sweeten them and on a wire out the window oil-purple crows, their dry throats cracking me awake. I had a bus with a driver named Charlie, torn green seats and a kinder-racket to convey me toward the day. I had a town through dirty glass—​ and you?—drugstore, post office, a river wrinkled with light. Sudden school, its hot top and jungle gym, knees bleeding through tights, bloody tights, yes, and an ache to go home but the bell rang, I had a bell, a bright rough music in air, in my chest. I had a chest, you had a chest—​ I know it—with fist inside, clenching. Did you have a blackboard and a woman’s hand, bone-white chalk drawing a world then erasing, drawing and erasing, palimpsest of ghost-worlds without cease? I had lined paper and a fat blue pencil, dominant hand and an edict not to use it, clumsy otherhand they said I should. I did. I had a name I wrote backward—and you? You had a name, but I couldn’t call it, and a hand, two hands I’d not yet held. We each had a house key, didn’t we, empty apartment and afternoons yawning like holes, and I had a neighbor hard in his ways like the pit I mistook for a mine and slid into, each of its gems just a lump of dull earth. I climbed out. You climbed out. Did I have a mother? If I had a mother, you did, too, and fathers? We must have had them, yes, teachers and fathers, buses and moons. Days like smoke or like cool ether we breathed and breathed through, and what do I have now? O moon, o day, window, river, blood, o bird, o hand, o fist, o world—​ you. And will you have me, too?