Your gratitude is my oxygen.
Anyways, all you titty-blessed girls know where my journey is headed; to the flash bra place/department store. Where there is nothing under $60 under any circumstances. Where an older lady clasping the pitiless tape measure of judgement will listen patiently while you try to explain your specific needs i.e. there's no tactful way to say I want a nice slutty bra for my giant rack that really puts it out there and gets me better service in the electronics shop, so I just admit as much in plain language. Sort of like the one I'm wearing now, only not so fucked-out and suicidal. Special occasion? Er... no... not really. Her nonverbal leakage turns slightly-to-decidedly disapproving.
It's the Mormon moo-cow erection-snuffing bras for you, you bossy big boobied harlot.
Then you'll go home, try it on despairingly and then fling it onto the ottoman at the end of the bed, uttering the first immortal line of the poem you are about to write and your partner will laugh because he is a man, balls can be saggy in the privacy of male attire and nobody dies.
globes of creme delight disguiser
in flesh mashed flat
proud pillowed prow
more separate than elevated
disjunct hills thusly created
parted like Mosaic seas
engender’d views of curse’d knees
where once stood mighty isles
of twinned and orotund
shaded, loveless and
On a far more tasteful note, we finally saw Only Lovers Left Alive last week and will review it pour vous soon. In the meantime, here's the very lovely Yasmine Hamdan and her enchanted vocal stylings from the soundtrack, which is just as much a gorgeous trove of atmospheric righteousness as the film itself.
For all romantics, both hopeless and still hopeful.
I adore you, even if a day passes by without seeing you i forget you? How come this time I drew you the Longing moves the nostalgia in my heart the night gets longer and the day passes backwards oh my fragile heart the separation is killing me I have no solution (hal) I have no solution.