How jealous I am of those I have known afraid to sleep for dreaming. I fear those moments before sleep when words tear from the nervous matrix and, like sparks, light what responses they may. That fragmented vision, seductive with joy and terror, robs rest of itself. Gratefully sunk in nightmare, where at least the anxious brain freed from knowing its own decay can flesh those skeletal epiphanies with visual and aural coherence, if not rationale: better those landscapes where terror is experienced as terror and rage as rage than this, where either is merely a pain in the gut or a throb above the eye, where a nerve spasm in the shin crumbles a city of bone, where a twitch in the eyelid detonates both the sun and the heart.
Ponyboy was being very, very bad this morning. You can tell by looking at his crazyeyes. Since I put him on a diet last month (I now give him an entirely reasonable amount of food as opposed to slightly too much) he
- tore many pieces of paper up into tinier pieces and scattered them throughout the house
- stole the drain from the bath tub and hid it behind the toilet
- yelled at 2am for no reason
- tried to remove the turquoise stone from my favorite ring, over and over again, with his teeth
- knocked my mouse onto the floor and then hid the batteries that fell out somewhere under the couch, taking them out an hour before my alarm goes off to roll them back and forth on the floor
- slapped his sister across the face for no reason (many times)
- knocked my leftover pizza on the floor and tried to eat it
- licked my dinner.
- ate part of my key lime pie
Joe was napping so I put Ponyboy next to Joe who sleep-wrestled him into submission. You can tell Pony is not done being bad.
well im back, and here is the best thing in the #ponyboy tag
This is an important post
tell me something embarrassing you used to wear in high school that at the time you thought was super cool but now you look back and you cringe yourself into the fucking ionosphere.
a giant furry shapeless leopard print jacket
i still wear it
fishnet shirt. (middle school, tho)
ditto for the bondage pants but those were shortlived
i had a ‘no i will not fix your computer’ shirt when i was 8, does that count
'no, i will not fix your computer (because i am 8, call a professional)’
(i had bondage pants and one of those camo shirts with a witty saying on them)
I still own a shirt that says my drinking team has a football problem, because i love it so much