I'm Into It

Trying too hard.

Shamebridge, Massachusetts. Population: three black lungs.

Promised no reblogs, but this still gets me. What the fuck indeed.

(via confessionofthebrokenheart)

• "So you drank vodka and watched a movie."
• "Yup."
• "Until 6 in the morning."
• "Yup."
• "That doesn't sound like you."
• "You're right. That doesn't sound like me at all. Maybe it didn't happen."

What I’ve Said:

The Art of the Phone Blowjob

The Loop: In Defense of the Obscene

The Death of Lady Desk

I Was Once a Journalist

What I’m Saying:

Terminal Boredom: The Post-Grad Condition

Digital Cuts and Analog Bruises

What I’m Going to Say:

The Wrong Conversations

Frankie 2.1

Without a computer, everything is becoming easier to say.

But maybe that’s just the afterglow talking.

My mother’s latest attempt to buy her way back into my good graces. It’s definitely working.

I’m stalking myself. Photo circa 2008.

The analog life.