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@broekhart
new pokemon type comin called
money type

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At the local hamburger shop and they said yelled out “order 167!” And three middle school age kids yelled in perfect unison “ 6 7!” Life is sometimes so beautiful
there's always falafel. in the middle of the week there's always falafel
nobody ever talks about the terrible fanfic epidemic of "they would NOT confess their love so openly and poetically as that."
big amatonormativity wants you to accept this as the norm but this is not how it has to be. we can push for consistent characterization in expressions of connection and affection. those characters could just kiss and not declare their undying love about it
reading this post back and realizing that i didn't get to my real point which is that maybe those guys shouldn't say that they're in love at all. i want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you earnestly believe those guys would say "i love you". it doesn't have to be this way
thank god literally i needed this news

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enough. time to reread the candymakers by wendy mass
i want to say thank you to last night me for bothering to look at my tax assessment finally. just in the nick of time of over contribution disaster
"What? It isn't just your words, is it? The promise of a thing hard to define and impossible to deliver...that is what you're suggesting I get, in exchange for surrendering an asset worth what that girl is worth?"
BLACK SAILS | XIV
Donna Summer, 1977
it’s declan tuesday everyone

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Cause you say you got my baby and I know it ain’t true
ever since mexico lost i've been listening to patti labelle on my own. on my ooooown....
the new carly rae is good
i want to be more than friends for the week i want to be more than friends for the week and if you want and if you like i won't make you read my mind i want YOUUUUUUUUUUU
the new carly rae is good

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Peanut Butter
by Eileen Myles
I am always hungry & wanting to have sex. This is a fact. If you get right down to it the new unprocessed peanut butter is no damn good & you should buy it in a jar as always in the largest supermarket you know. And I am an enemy of change, as you know. All the things I embrace as new are in fact old things, re-released: swimming, the sensation of being dirty in body and mind summer as a time to do nothing and make no money. Prayer as a last re- sort. Pleasure as a means, and then a means again with no ends in sight. I am absolutely in opposition to all kinds of goals. I have no desire to know where this, anything is getting me. When the water boils I get a cup of tea. Accidentally I read all the works of Proust. It was summer I was there so was he. I write because I would like to be used for years after my death. Not only my body will be compost but the thoughts I left during my life. During my life I was a woman with hazel eyes. Out the window is a crooked silo. Parts of your body I think of as stripes which I have learned to love along. We swim naked in ponds & I write be- hind your back. My thoughts about you are not exactly forbidden, but exalted because they are useless, not intended to get you because I have you & you love me. It’s more like a playground where I play with my reflection of you until you come back and into the real you I get to sink my teeth. With you I know how to relax. & so I work behind your back. Which is lovely. Nature is out of control you tell me & that’s what’s so good about it. I’m immoderately in love with you, knocked out by all your new white hair why shouldn’t something I have always known be the very best there is. I love you from my childhood, starting back there when one day was just like the rest, random growth and breezes, constant love, a sand- wich in the middle of day, a tiny step in the vastly conventional path of the Sun. I squint. I wink. I take the ride.
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