#sir-michael-nesmith

[mdhimself]

“I’m pretty sure the paint is supposed to go on the paper, not all over your hands.”

“Not when you’re making personalized abstract art,” Micky said with a smirk. “Then an artist should leave his fingerprints on his work.”

The truth was, Micky’s art project was not going as well as he hoped it would. He had seen Peter paint flawless doors and window and decided to try his own hand at creating a portrait. Unfortunately, “abstract” was the only word that he could think of to describe what he had produced so far.

More accurately, it was the only positive word he could think of.

[mdhimself]

“Um...”

The sound of Mike’s voice startled Micky and he paused, the hammer in his hand hanging in the air. In front of him on the floor were the mangled remains of a radio he’d been working on. He looked over at Mike and slowly lowered his arm as he turned his gaze back to the mess he had made.

“Oh.....sorry......” he mumbled.

[mdhimself]

💔 (but nothing w a terminal ilness please)

(no problem :)

Result: 51: My muse tells yours their dark secret

Micky sat on his bed staring at the window. He was supposed to be getting ready to go to a party on a yacht with Mike. Davy and Peter were probably already there by now, waiting for them. But Micky couldn’t move from where he was.

The memories from another time. Another boat and a friend he had a few summers ago. A moment which he could never forget no matter how many times he tried.

[mdhimself]

"Here, have my jacket"

Micky almost didn’t hear him above his own chattering teeth. It normally wasn’t so frigid in California, but for some reason, a brutal cold snap had overtaken Malibu. It was sudden and blustery which made it even worse. Especially since he and Mike had gone out to run some errands without the Monkeemobible.

“Thanks...but, won’t you be cold?” he answered. Being from Texas, Micky knew that Mike could get cold rather easily. And even though he was half frozen, Micky wasn’t really comfortable with taking the only source of warmth Mike had.

[bcnzc-blog]

@sir-michael-nesmith

🎵for me to shuffle my playlist and use my favorite line of the next song as a starter

                                                solitude :: black sabbath

     ❝ the world is a lonely place, you’re on your own. guess i’ll go home, sit down and moan. ❞

[greyhoundgxrl]

“You couldn’t kill me even if you tried for one hundred years.”

Madeline rolled a cigarette between her fingers, before lighting it and bringing it to her lips. Sitting against the dingy dressing room mirror, she crossed her legs and took in the musician’s strange words. Quietly she turned to him. “I wouldn’t need to,” she said simply, “but would you kill me?” She cocked her head, her large chocolate eyes resembling a doll’s.