Mott the Hopple & the Game of Life 

Billy rapped all night about his suicide 

The television man is crazy 

It’s a real mean team 

We can love 

Heather ponders the difference between it’s a real mean team (comma, implying a breath, a sigh, an admission, a complicit but we can do this incredibly difficult thing called love) and it’s a real mean team we can love, the feeling of shock over loving such horrible people as our grandparents, who would never have had the collective angst to perceive the naked ape in all of us.

Heather waited for Theo, outside at the cafe. 
Boogaloo dudes 

Carry the news 

In 1972, when the electricity went out, you did something else.

There were four tv channels, including PBS,  and the after-school special on ABC belied the latchkey, invisible, GEN-X to come. 

She was finally able to speak

after years of silent acceptance

The parallax view

This was supposed to be a scene 

This was something of a scene 

 But what’s to be done if the sole and express purpose of every intelligent man is babble – that is, a deliberate pouring from empty into void? 

Fyodor Dostoevsky (Notes From Underground) (via trashingdays)

“I, as a matter of fact, take my stand here neither with suffering nor with well-being.” Dostoevsky 

Darkness visited

Same as it ever was 

On the advent of your day in court 

What do you say when the officers of the law lie? 

When did it become so blatant? 

Culminating with a Netflix and chill moment where a man gets away with killing his estranged wife because of racist cops. She said it would come to this 

And here we are 
Nine months later 
Waiting for more lies to be told 

To overcome before death 

A tall order now 

Due to yes who to report