boy (jean)
Now, if you were actually a boy, this would all be a piece of cake. You're nicely washed, well-kept, just the right length, and just the right fit, Mr. J.Crew version on final sale.
Boys as jeans. What a thought.
In other news, sorely pissed and in disbelief in a vicarious sort of way. But that's personal, and perhaps for another day.
It's amazing how resilient I've become at refusing to mature.
Watched two total knee replacement surgeries last week. Didn't hate it, so that's a start, I guess.
Writer's block. I need someone to move it for me, if you please.
Currently Listening lyricism (modified just for me) from "Virtue and Wine" -- Sondre Lerche : "I've frozen down my memory. It's morning when [s]he gets up. [S]he puts on Lionel Ritchie. I've already had enough. The queues are long; I guess I am wrong. This chemical environment is getting out of hand. Virtue and wine cannot help you swim. Pain and sorrow must come if you go. It's the chemistry and the things we shouldn't do. I am nothing without you."