Typewriter Series #755 by Tyler Knott GregsonText for Tired Eyes:I want this. I want that. I want photos of us. I want to be proud of us out loud. I want to kiss you. I want to smile and laugh. I want to make you giggle and I want to make you sigh and I want to take your breath away and I want to dance with you at people’s weddings and I want to pick you up and carry you when your feet are tired and I want to wait until you are Almost asleep and then kiss your nose and make you laugh so hard with some secret joke that your belly hurts and you smack me for waking you all the way up so we have to get out of bed and sit and watch the city lights while eating a bowl of cereal at 1:38 am. I want to smell you fresh from a shower and paint your toenails and take you to baseball games and teach you hidden things that are going on that most people don’t know. I want us. I want the smell of pancakes when it’s me that cooks them and the sun hasn’t yet woken. I want the smell of dinner when it’s us that burned it because we fell to the floor and made love instead. I want the handprints on car windows, steamed up from the inside. I want long baths followed by short showers and the scent of your shampoo staining my hands for the entire day to follow. I want ears that hear the words I spill instead of eyes that read them. I want notebooks black with ink from all the details I noticed from all the times I sat and marveled at the way you spin through an hour.
Typewriter Series #756 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I want fireworks from mountaintops and lightning from windowsills. I want lazy board games where rules forget to matter and I want shouting matches over important things. I want a passion that burns through us and sets the sheets on fire. I want to wake up covered in soot from the night before. I want a hand to catch my head when my eyes fill up with water, and I want fingers to find my shoulders when the weight of a lifetime feels too heavy from time to time. I want to be the tireless palms that rub the aches from your flesh and the kiss on the forehead after you fall asleep from it. I want the steering wheel cold in my hands on the start of a morning road trip far from here and I want to be the sound of your legs stretching when we stop for gas. I want the photos of every sign at the border of every state and I want my fingers slightly stained with the stamps from every visa in our passports. I want the odor of strange food that snakes its way down long streets and the sound of boots on cobblestone and clay.
Seasons change, and I tried hard just to soften you
Seasons change, but I’ve grown tired of trying to change for you
The camera turned on by itself I am no model
I’ve been keeping the bees in my apartment. I was using my magic smoke on them.
It’s that time of the year again!
do you think whoever was designing the default netflix avatar made a mistake somewhere but just sat there laughing at the result for so long that the whole design team decided to keep it
"But I wanted it blue!" "Now, dear, we decided pink was her color" "YOU decided!"
Had a morning trip to LA yesterday and FINALLY got to visit the Last Bookstore. I was overwhelmed by everything that was there- books, records, cool art pieces. I took pictures of literally anything I thought looked remotely interesting, which was basically everything haha. Also, $1 books, hollaaaaaaa~ ^^
Pixar + last lines
豆しば 3/20: Peanut