holy mother of boots
april fools day came and went and these boots are no fucking joke.
Exultation rides by
A poppy the size of the sun in my skull
I have given fair warning
At the time of corpses and clouds I can make love here as anywhere
In other news, being broke means no money for the totally necessary bra shopping that I need to do. or, you know, not. if , when encountering objects in the everyday world, you think to yourself, “How might I attach this to my head in a whimsical fashion?” is the reliable test for the contentious question of detecting a hipster….I’d say, if you encounter objects in the world and attach them to your boobs/construct makeshift bras of said objects, you are probably a fucking creative savant. This is the new genius test.
am I wrong?
Even gay men like boobs. big boobs. small boobs. its the universal language of love.
I challenge you to challenge me on this one.
In other news …