I’ve been crying at work for what feels like the past month. I can’t get my head straight. And I want everyone in the universe to leave me alone.

reallyreallyreallytrying:

Matt Groening quits Simpsons. “I am tired of drawing those yellow people over and over again” he says “You have to draw them so many times to make it look like they are moving”

Man.

sloppy-handog replied to your post: sometimes i’m home alone and sometimes i try to…
Sometimes you should reup it.

you’ve heard it a million times probably because i am obnoxious n_n

I HAVE!!! SO MUCH TO SAY!!!!!!!!!!

sometimes i’m home alone and sometimes i try to record music on a laptop and sometimes i get embarrassed so i delete the audio post

monstermadeofeyes: Promo poster I did for the initial announcement of the fourth annual Total Bummer music festival. Final promotional poster with the full line-up, sponsors, etc. will be epic (and probably extremely time consuming). More info in the coming months at Spirit Cat’s tumblr page.

I’ve seen your face in too many people this morning and it is making my stomach weak. It’s only 5:33.

I hate writing things because I always feel like I’m accidentally plagiarizing something I read a week ago.

The man in front of me isn’t even hungry and he’s picking at a cheese tray. He grew up in florida but he hasn’t been back in 9 years. He’s picking at a cheese tray, sitting in an uncomfortable restaurant chair even though he just arrived and has a room and a bed and a love seat and a peanut butter sandwich and a black suit and tie ordered from brooks brothers that still hasn’t been drycleaned for his mothers funeral waiting at his sisters house. He’s picking at a cheese tray that he payed 9 dollars to throw away. He’s calling his girlfriend to ask about how the weather is in Boston and she hasn’t known what to say since 2008 when suddenly they were expecting and then 6 months later they weren’t. “Prices are expensive.” He’s picking at a cheese tray because it’s better than reading a baptist church pamphlet on the seven stages of grief. Its better than “I’m sorry for your loss” and “You have your father’s hands”. He keeps the phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder despite the fact that his battery is dying and he left his charger in Massachusetts with his false sense of nostalgia and it hasn’t hit him that in a few hours the cell phone on his shoulder will have transformed into the corner of mahogany casket. He’s picking at his cheese tray and she gives him the opportunity to respond. “Better now.” And I look up and he’s already just some guy I saw in a store.