Perishables! Come Congregate in the Cold!
Little Hot Waves, Or, Let’s Get Brain Cancer While We Wait For The Popcorn
Mix Your Drinks! (Stir! Whip! Purée!)
A Configuration of Whisks Which, When Activated, Allow Sufjan Stevens to Cook a Fluffier Omelette
Toaster (For the Toastless)
Alright so maybe I need a twenty-four hour period to really articulate how angry I am but Henry Rollins can go fuck off for his article on suicide. I mean I appreciate,I really appreciate I really do, how “[he has] life by the neck and drag[s] it along. Rarely does it move fast enough” and that he’s a big tough man saying big tough things but it’s two-thousand-fucking-fourteen and I cannot fathom why people treat depression and suicide as issues of character. Yes, Henry Rollins, it is definitely a good idea and not at all a shitty one to proclaim that people who’ve killed themselves have lost your respect, that they’ve “voided their lives”. You claim to “”“get”“” that depression is unique and personal and damning but all you can give is a pithy line about how there’s nothing you can really do. I mean
It’s hard to feel bad when the person did what they wanted to. It sucks they are gone, of course, but it’s the decision they made. I have to respect it and move on.
Yeah, that’s fucking definitely what’s rattling around in a depressive’s head! It was definitely the person, the person you knew and made you laugh and did good things and had good times with you that made that decision. Writing off forty-fucking-thousand people feels so much easier when it’s said like that. Good thing you point out you’re no head doctor or I would have assumed you were actually a head doctor. Fuck you for shitting on people who can’t talk back, you fucking six hundred pound gorilla skidmark. Fuck you for telling us they blew it, fuck you for thinking you have the authority to speak for the families and friends of those that committed suicide, fuck you for going out and telling it like it is and fuck you, I mean REALLY, fuck you for flexing your tough guy cred at the end. What sage advice, how about everybody just take charge of their life and hang the fuck in there. Who the fuck even needs medication or community support or crisis hotlines when Henry Rollins can just read off of a fucking poster of a kitten hanging from a branch!
You wrote it yourself, maybe you “don’t get it”. No, I’m pretty fucking certain you don’t.
I don’t fucking GET IT. You knew these people, asshole. What in the fuck made you think that they wanted to get gone? Why the fuck did you think they got as far they did??????? How the fuck do you collate being killed by a mugger with taking your own life? They were tougher than you, asshole. They were tougher and braver and you don’t fucking deserve to be able to talk about them like you were their fucking shepherd. Fuck you and fuck your self-righteousness and your macho bullshit.
of being tired
of being tired
Where’s that picture of bill murray lying in bed saying “I hope the roof flies off and I get sucked into space” when you really need it because boy oh boy if there was ever a gpoy
Fleetwood Mac - What Makes You Think You’re The One?
Spoon - Rainy Taxi
the Sonics - Psycho A Go-Go