I enjoy a good dose of Leslie, Ron, Donna, April—the whole gang—on my best days. But on my worst, this show becomes an unbingeable nightmare.
Because Leslie Knope makes me feel like shit.
I enjoy a good dose of Leslie, Ron, Donna, April—the whole gang—on my best days. But on my worst, this show becomes an unbingeable nightmare.
Because Leslie Knope makes me feel like shit.
There’s a heart in a bag (face it) throw it over the
edge that thing pumping like fury like fire inside
you never belonged to him
When Conan O’Brien asked if his parents had purposely named him after the legendary comedian, George conceded that his parents didn’t actually have much of a sense of humor. The crack went viral on You Tube.
Is there anything to call that? Something that’s more
than you should but not so much you know it’s wrong?
I understand. I
tell her that
sometimes, my
arms bend back.
Which is not to say
the way to get the best performance out of someone is to have them fear
for their life
I’ve just had the happiest thought
Nieve says, the ice of her hair melting rapidly
at these speeds—A girl falling is the same as flying
downward.
Now, what option did you have when
the whole world saw you break, said you broke
what you had meant to fix? Wasn’t it always your
job, caretaker? You are ignored, now screaming.
Naked and obnoxious, with a stereo on multi-disc shuffle,
we dove so laughter would drop like pollen from our bodies,
Jason – always – leading the way.
I believe in the conservation
of birdwings, in tiny packages of light
& their insistence on shining
in the resurrection of dying things.
I don't remember where Mrs. Harding, our club sponsor/art teacher, was during all this. Probably in the art department's ventilation room. But I guess she needed to be high or whatever to deal with a bunch of fourteen to eighteen year olds singing in broken Japanese and wearing Naruto headbands.
It was weird. I was weird, as any of my classmates would have attested. Everything was weird, if you thought about it long and deeply enough.
A knife will kill a zombie.
The hero shows us that a dozen times,
and if there’s only one
way out, you take it, fast.
And I know the world will end in a ball of fire that will look a LOT like kind of like exactly like the Tide detergent logo.
It's not about the pasta! he screams over and over again. It's ludicrous. Is pasta a codeword for drugs? Are they actually fighting over Alfredo or something?
Don’t trust men in broom closets. Don’t trust men in studios. Don’t trust men. Unless they have money and promises. Then trust them even less.
I’ve been curious. I have a secret that sounds like pieces
of silver earrings jangling against earlobes, or the highest
tiny pinky key on the baby piano
afternoon phone calls split
his concentration, the arch
in her frantic foot now sharp
as modern time’s resolution.
On the day of Loki’s last class, it all clicks. We perform all the tasks correctly and pass the test. Loki gets a Fozzie Bear toy and a certificate, and I take some pictures of him in a little doggie graduation hat. I’ve never been prouder. We did it! Together. We are a team.
So he left, a Spider-man Quitter
Searching for a slice of shade,
under the pounding sun