The best, cutest, quietest version of yourself.
Girls,
I know you will understand this
and feel the intrinsic incredible emotion
You have just pulled over your head the worn,
warm sweater belonging to a boy
Now, you haven’t had a passionate kissing session or anything,
but you got to go on a camping trip with him
and eight other people from school
And you practically slept together,
your sleeping bag right next to his
And you woke in the night to watch him as he slept
but you couldn’t see anything ‘cause it was dark
so you just laid there and listened to his breathing
and wondered if your heart might burst
The sweater has that slightly goat-like smell
which all teenage boys possess,
and that smell will lovingly transfer
to all your other clothes
If you get to keep it for a few days you can sleep with it
but don’t let your mom see, ‘cause she’ll say,
“what is that filthy thing, and who does it belong to
besides the trash man?”
So you have to keep it under the covers with you
You can kind of lie it beside you,
or wrap it around your waist,
or touch it on your legs, or whatever
That’s your business
Now if the sweater has, like, reindeer on it
or is a funny color like yellow… I’m sorry,
you can’t get away with a sweater like that
Look for brown, or grey, or blue
Anything other than that, and you know you’re dealing with
someone who’s different
And different is NOT what you’re looking for
You’re looking for those Alpine ski-chiseled features
and that sort of blank look which passes for deep thought
or at least the notion that someone’s home
You’re looking for the boy of your dreams
who is the same boy in the dreams of all your friends
Now the sweater isn’t going to fit you of course,
you have to kinda roll up the sleeves in a jaunty way
Saying “this is the sweater belonging to a boy and
the boy is a genuine hunka-hunka burning love and
is not just some hand-me-down from your
brother or father”
Monday, wear the sweater to school
Be calm, look cute
Don’t tell him about the dream you had
about the place the two of you would share
when you get older
Just be yourself
The best, cutest, quietest version of yourself
Definitely wear lip gloss
He looks at you, and then he looks away
And then he walks away
and the smell of the sweater hits you again suddenly
like ape-scent gloriola
and you get a note passed to you
by a girl in History that says
“He needs that sweater back.
He forgot you put it on in the tent on Saturday
and he’s been looking for it.”
And you don’t have to die of humiliation, you know
You are a strong person
and this is a learning experience
You can still hold your head up high as you run from the classroom
tearing the stinking sweater from your body.
You look at that sweater
carefully
and you realize that love made you temporarely blind.
You’ve got a secret now, honey,
and though you’d never sink as low as him,
you could blab it all over the school if you wanted
The label in that sweater
said “100% Acrylic”
Ann Bailey is an old hero for a new generation.
Ann Bailey, Bill Able and Joe Walker live in Fishtown, a neighborhood here in Philadelphia. They are old. The eat at Sulimay’s ever day. But that doesn’t stop them from reviewing current music releases (?).
Using descriptives like “Bugaboo,” the trio rightly does what our generation is too afraid to do: they wear their Curves gear to breakfast, and they criticize Radiohead.
An extra Kudos to Ms. Bailey, who visually demonstrates what we can expect our sleeve tattoos to look like a few decades from now.
10 reasons why hippies are neo-luddites, Part I.
- They insist on acoustic instruments.
- Their output of work is always less than their predecessors.
- They don’t accept modern standards of hygiene.
- Technology is rendered useless on them.
- They adore rebelious historical figures simply because they don’t want to (read: can’t) pay “the man”.
- They’re fucking socialists.
- They love to riot.
- All they do is break shit and make me angry.
- They’re fucking paranoid.
- They honestly believe that they are Robin Hood (because they’re so stoned, duh).
If anyone can do it… (via mathowie) (via granitepics)
-says the man who got a degree in Anthropology from a public state University and decided to live in a cave to give up money after seeing what money did to the health of a foriegn tribe, and blogs about it from the computers that cost money at the library (not far from his cave) that’s probably maintained with money from tax payers who have jobs.
This is what goes on in Boulder, folks.
“Comfortable” - John Mayer
I can’t express how much I love this song.
If you can get over the John Mayer douche factor, you’ll find the man can write decent verses, though I have yet to forgive him for yanking my girl Aniston around.
If we ever move more into ballads for our Karaoke:Wicked Awesome Style sessions, I’ll rock this on the real.
She says the bible is all that she reads
And prefers that I not use profanity.
Your mouth was
so dirty.
Life of the party,
And she swears that she’s artsy,
But you could distinguish Miles from Coltrain.
