the mad chatter

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William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure

This one moves me. And come to think of it, I might make it my next tattoo.

(Source: aseaofquotes)

Heh.

(Source: eyegroove)

One of the first house parties I went to in Montreal ended in the early AM with several orders of grilled cheese and fries, coffees, and a few bagels. Every time I see the two served together like this, I’m taken back to that night (which turned into day) in June.

Someday I’ll write about it. It’s such a good story.

(Source: fuckyeahwearehungry)

I was this exhausted last week. I’d been running on about 20 hours sleep for the whole week, and by the time Thursday night came around, I was beat. I climbed into bed at 10 and was likely out by 10:05. I was still tired when I got up, and managed to squeeze in some more sleep on the train en route to work.

As a matter of fact, I’m this tired right now… Can’t wait to get to bed!

(Source: acaweb)

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I spend a LOT of time in my head. Even when I’m happy, I’m worrying. Obsessing. About something.

(Source: obscurit)

It’s Shoesday!

I’d likely never wear these, but I’d compliment the woman wearing them!

(Source: fashioonmakeup)

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I’m not a foot hater. I’m not a fetishist, but they don’t bother me the way they do other people. I love it when a man has nice feet. It’s such an bonus if he’s already got a lot of other good qualities. I once gave a boyfriend pedicures, his feet were that pretty. I used to clip his nails and give him footrubs. It was just the one guy, though, and it was a long time ago.

The ex had nice feet. Not nice enough to love up, but nice enough that it didn’t bother me to have them in my lap while we watched TV. I remember dating one guy who didn’t have a big toenail. Years of playing multiple sports and having his feet bashed around and damaging the toenail meant that one day it just fell off - and never grew back. His feet weirded me out.

I also love a good arch. High arches and good, strong ankles are sexy. The pair of feet pictured look like a pair that I would admire while shopping or in the mall. The veins in them are sexy, too.

Hm. Maybe I do have a “foot thing”.

Newcastle FTW. LOL

(Source: whereisthecoool)

What was the first record you bought?

The first 45 I ever owned was David Bowie’s Modern Love. Next up was When Will I Be Famous? by Bros. In either 8th or 9th grade, I saved up my allowance (yes, I got 20 bucks every two weeks) and bought Brenda Russell’s Piano In The Dark and Hands To Heaven by Breathe. Both songs remain two of my absolute favourite slow songs to this day.

My first LP was Salt-N-Pepa’s A Salt With A Deadly Pepa. My first 12” was Janet Jackson’s Control.

I still have all of the records I just mentioned. And a turntable to play them on. My dad bought it for me when I was 16. He didn’t want me to mash up his AKAI, so he got me a cheap and cheerful JVC.

By that time, I’d amassed quite a collection of records, and would spend hours in our basement singing along to all of the tracks. Pops fancied himself somewhat of a DJ, so we had a booming system configured with amplifiers, equalizers, inputs, outputs, microphones, and a lighting system that was wired into the sound; lights of all colours would flash and pulse to the beat of the music, and glow dim as each song faded out.

My friend Liza would come over sometimes, and we’d pretend that we were on-air personalities. We were JBLC Radio. 2110 on your AM dial - after our respective house numbers and initials. Little did we know, the sequence of AM radio numbers didn’t get that high.

By the time I got to college, CDs were the thing, and while I still had many of my records, they went unplayed. One year, I gave away two of the best-ever 12” records to a DJ friend of mine - Soul II Soul’s Back to Life and Keep On Movin’. We aren’t even friends, anymore. I doubt he remembers where he got them from.

Even now, in the days of digital music, I still miss those records.

Him, not so much.

(Source: alkaholik)

"Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money."

— Virginia Woolf (via floralnymph)