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bluelovesorange------PRE-EMPTIVE VALENTINES DAY POST--------
"I care not for love, sir."
Or whatever that line was. While it is no "You pierce my soul," and I have issues with the 'romance' between Jane and Rochester, okay, I admit I was kind of taken aback by all the steam rising off from my television set. PBS! You're so naughty.
....I could never love a stupid man, but apparently I will love a man in brocade and skinny trousers. Japanese doramas, you have ruined me for all men, not that I don't think the fifteen years of steady consumption of old English classics, manga, indie pop songs, living in England, and collecting gay boyfriends didn't have a hand in that entire sorry venture. I think I shall have to post/play a game very soon - "Gay or [Asian] Popstar?"
Though when we talk about legs the width of my arm skinny? Then that just goes into disgusting and creepy territory and I can't look at you anymore because I'm afraid I'll cram a submarine sandwich down your throat - my love is violent and it comes prepared with a picnic basket.
Do you know the moment when you realize you can't remember the last time you spoke to someone important in your life, and the silence is not comforting, and you fill it in with talk of weather and grandiose paranoia-laden scenarios, where they've replaced you with someone more charming, more eloquent, more there?
I need to get out of that moment.
-----VALENTINES DAY IS NO MEASURE OF HOW I LOVE YOU-------
"I care not for love, sir."
Or whatever that line was. While it is no "You pierce my soul," and I have issues with the 'romance' between Jane and Rochester, okay, I admit I was kind of taken aback by all the steam rising off from my television set. PBS! You're so naughty.
....I could never love a stupid man, but apparently I will love a man in brocade and skinny trousers. Japanese doramas, you have ruined me for all men, not that I don't think the fifteen years of steady consumption of old English classics, manga, indie pop songs, living in England, and collecting gay boyfriends didn't have a hand in that entire sorry venture. I think I shall have to post/play a game very soon - "Gay or [Asian] Popstar?"
Though when we talk about legs the width of my arm skinny? Then that just goes into disgusting and creepy territory and I can't look at you anymore because I'm afraid I'll cram a submarine sandwich down your throat - my love is violent and it comes prepared with a picnic basket.
Do you know the moment when you realize you can't remember the last time you spoke to someone important in your life, and the silence is not comforting, and you fill it in with talk of weather and grandiose paranoia-laden scenarios, where they've replaced you with someone more charming, more eloquent, more there?
I need to get out of that moment.
-----VALENTINES DAY IS NO MEASURE OF HOW I LOVE YOU-------
