watch me splatter!

                     sometimes,         when  mido  senses  that  jules  had  a  particularly  bad  day;   he'd  make  sure  to  have  her  get  in  bed  in  a  better  mood   (  which  usually entails  proposed  antics  like  getting   drunk,   struggling  to  climb  and  fighting  to  fit  into  the  hammock  tied  outside  and  chatting  shit,  finishing  and  smashing  a  wine  bottle  they  will  absolutely  clean  up  the  next  day  and  cackling  until  they  both  fall  asleep  or  late  dinner  and  twilight:  eclipse (2010);     mido’s  least  favorite  and  where  he  shines  as  the  hater  he  tries  not  to  be  however  he’s  happy  to  become  jules’s  very  own  zesty  filmbro.     #cathrinehardwickepurist  )  if  not  possible  and  all  that  could  be  done  is  hold  her  to  sleep,         then  it’s  making  sure  she’d   get  out  of  bed  in  a  good  mood,  which  entails  him  waiting  bedside  like  a  concerned  victorian  mother  of  a  sickly  child  with  brewed  coffee,         a  fresh  bouquet  of  dewy  wild  flowers  he  very  likely  went  to  pick  with  nyla  early  that  morning   (  “  c’mon.  up,  little  bird.  we’re  on  a  timed  mission  to  save  my  world.  ”  whispered  through  a  determined  grin  to  the  angel  curled  in  his  bed  who  he’d  promptly  dress  in  a  discarded  shirt  of  his  and  take  off  into  a  foliage  hunt  with.  )          and  a  day  at  the  beach  with  matching  swimwear  planned.             maybe  pop  by  the  pier  for  gross  lunch  and  talk  shit  in  his  hearse  car  while  they  ride  through  town.             maybe  hire  someone  to  take  pics  of  them  timothee  +  lily  rose  depp  pap  photos  style  in  someone’s  yacht  for  custom  made  roomies  birthday  cards.               who knows ?             endless,  endless  possibilities......   all  to  make  his  world  feel  a  little  bit  better <3

send  🍷  for  a  drunk  text  from  my  muse.

mido  [  sent  at  2am  ]   :    H aunt me some mroe, Kavinsky.

mido  [  sent  at  2am  ]   :    I dare you.

send  😬  for  a  worried  text  from  my  muse.

mido  [  sent  at  9pm  ]   :    are you sure you’re alright?

mido  [  sent  at  9pm  ]   :    usually you’d be up to deface public property.

mido  [  sent  at  9pm  ]   :    but it was just my pen, our seat and my ultra realistic and personal depictions of a penis tonight... 

send  💋  for  a  flirty  text  from  my  muse.

mido  [  sent  at  3pm  ]   :    bought a pair of roller skates.

mido  [  sent  at  3pm  ]   :    [  insert   image  of  said  roller  skates.  they’re  black  (  🙄 )  and  personalized;   with  the  numbers  8/3  messily  stitched  in  red  by  him.  ]

mido  [  sent  at  3pm  ]   :    the very second I choregraph a full dance to our song it’s over for your shifts. 

@psychoanaliesme: its literally easter Midas...He Is Risen......

@itstheeffervescents: Oh in many ways, he has Risen today, that's true ... Very true...

@psychoanaliesme: happy birthday 2....Him

Tweet shared with jules

                    ‘‘  i  knew  it  wasn’t  a  vision  i  saw  you  in.  ’’           corny  but  genuine  when  it’s  deduced   &  confessed  through  an  arch  grin  after  a  hearty  huff  of  smoke,  toying  with  a  coin  tossed  &  flipped  between  them  that  he  couldn’t  stop  grinning  at  the  sight  of.             head  shakes  in  awe  of  her  but  at  his  own  realized  admission  as  well.             small  encounters  not  alike  their  first  chequered  mido’s  seventh  month  in  irving,    though  practically  inevitable  for  what  comes  next;    deliciously  tormenting  in  all  the  sightings  preceding  it.           ones  barely  confronted  before  it’s  too  late  and  she’s  gone:           a  looming  shadow  on  a  shiny  hearse  that  isn’t  his  for  once,         a  set  of  brilliant  eyes  locking  him  in  a  searing  stare  through  a  mirage  of  the  licking  flames  of  a  bonfire  hosted  by  his  neighbors;   one  for  the  ages  if  true,   nothing  could  pass  between  them,             six  burnished  coins  spinning  at  a  speed  too  recent  for  logic  on  pavement  near  a  wilting  host  of  red  carnation,     barely  held  together  by  tattered  lace,           flash  of  flaxen  tresses  bounding  by;     knocking  him  back  a  few  steps  in  his  long,  unperturbed  strides  &  the  futile  double  takes  done  in  these  run-ins.           the  prettiest  of  omens      /    “  blink  and  you’ll  miss  her.   ”   –——  recounted  mido  many  mornings  ago;      to  distracted  company,     schmuckified  early  bird  dozy  with  sweet  somethings  of  the  subconscious  &  sprawled  over  the  glossed  slab  of  marble  of  a  shared  kitchen  countertop  and  he  did  miss  her           –——           in  a  strange  way  fathomed  less  &  less  the  farther  that  grandiose  encounter  went  away  from  easily  accessed  memory.           longed  for  the  feelings  of  utter  release  chased  in  the  dark  of  night  with  antonia  kavinsky’s  brief  banditship  welcoming  him  through  town  in  a  CHARADE  of  her  choosing;       all  merged  and  morphed  now  into  lucid  dreams,   into   delirium  in  broad  daylight;   subliminally  taunting  &  yearnful  in  his  recollections,   which  makes  this  reunion  ceremonious  in  every  way  it  shouldn’t  be      /     someone  had  to  pass  on  recently  for  them  to  find  one  another  earlier  that  evening;       an  old  man  who  spent  the  better  years  of  his  life  impersonating   joe  pesci  took  mido  shopping  for  his  own  forever  sack   (     the  caskets  available  felt  too  tacky,  he  said.           mido  agreed,    with  an  impersonal  preference  to  the  coffins  seen.           cremation  was  an  option  mulled  over  until  the  idea  of  assembling  a  proper  casket  came  about;     a  quest  turned  group  project  at  the  beach  house  with  others  involved.           pleasant  times  were  had.  )          he’d  assumed  she’d  taunt  him  through  yet  another  fucked  up  daydream  he’d  dedicate  a  page  for  in  carried  dream  journal   about  and  consider  seeing  someone  about.           maybe  with  a  taunting  wink  across  an  active  service.            a  wink  he’d  inappropriately  laugh  at  himself  for;   [redacted]  on  main  but  he  didn’t  need  to.             not  today  as  they  revisited  their  antics  of  months  past  in  a  different  context:   broad  daylight,   loosened   funeralwear  and  all.   she’s  here  and  he’s  more  aware  of  her  features  than  he  supposed  he  ever  was  in  his  dreams;   her  wakeful  presence  much  more  pronounced  in  ways  he’s  yet  to  recognize.      “  no,  no…  couldn’t  be…  —— - -   a  thing  of  fever  dreams,  and  frenzy.           that’s  what  you  are.             an  eternal   dream  sequence  gone  positively  haywire.   this  close  - - —— ”           rests  his  elbow  on  the  surface  &  nearly  closes  thumb  and  index  finger  in  the  air;   inches  closer  and  peers  into  her  eyes  through  the  pinched  crescent  shaped by  his  hand.           “  —— - -   this  close  to  lynchian  territory;  all  guised  under  a  welcome  committee  that  i  would  wake  up  from  with  no  news  or  sight  of  you  for  months  to  come,     leaving  me  lonely  for  the  shivers  and  wolves  to  descend  and  consume  me.  ”   inadvertently  rewords  a  twilight  (2008)  quote  in  his  declaration  but  keeps  it  pushing,   juxtaposes  the  little  update  he’d  told  her  about  his  crowded  living  space  but  he  had  been  lonely,  at  times.           scoffs  before  he  takes  a  drag  from  his  cigarette  and  lets  it  linger  before  he  releases  a  cloud  of  smoke  through  a  sigh.   “  but  i  thank  you  for  that.   no,  really,  it  was  good  for  my  health.    helped  break  me  in  as  the  irvingite  i’ve  become  today.           i’m  no  longer  your  best  kept  secret  in  someone’s  extra,  extra  chlorinated  pool.  ”       cringes  at  the  memory  though  through  a  laugh.   “     sorry,  kavinsky  but  i’m  deathly  afraid  you’ll  have  to  share  me  with  the  rest  of  this  town  now.   ”

           ‘‘ FWEDAAAAAAY. ’’         cries out shiloh rhode in the atrocious manner of one archie andrews’s ronnie from a passing car that slows to a near halt.         remnants of a dying party sounds away from seemingly miles behind,         fighting for what's left of its life,         blood orange’s charcoal baby and their own hoarse vocals sound out into the stretch of the street ahead and they’re tellingly chipper     /      when shiloh isn’t being an asshole at house parties near you, they were being an asshole outside of aforementioned parties,         holding someone’s pin hostage and posing as a watchdog tucked at the backseat of an artfully taped vehicle parked a few cars away leading up to the address,         (   the very vehicle they’re in now,         with milf hunter taped across one side of the car and pussy wagon jr. on the other.         pussy wagon sr. having met its demise in a wreck that left shiloh with a second concussion  &  a shithouse sharpie confessional of an arm cast most of last summer.    )         barking incoherent words of their choosing at passersby to invoke small terrors and smaller thrills that dwindle while they waited for the next big woof in the form of some public stint of any kind.         tonight’s party prompted many barks with joined  choruses that morphed into howling even;     none satisfying.         so milf  hunter  /  pussy wagon jr pulls off and away to circle an otherwise quiet block and here they are    ——    stoned menace’s entire torso nearly spills out from the backseat window at the mere sight of the back they’d grow to recognize too well for their liking before they’re dragged right back to topple into their seat,   cackling as they struggle a bit to sit themself up  &   frantically wriggle a hand  behind their back;         a gesture to either of the fellow assholes aboard  at the front to lower the music before they turn back to the window,         all roguish grins as they prop their chin over their crossed arms when fred is almost at reach,         peering upwards at her with gleaming eyes that twinkle underneath the streetlights    ——    under one of the working lights in that row, anyway,         shiloh remarked on their way in earlier.         three didn’t work and two buzzed and flickered;         one of them was above fred and the wagon on patient standby,         leaving  a  checkered lane that may look unnerving any other night,         on any open road but it’s the suburbs of town and there’s a party to be abandoned behind.         has made silent guesswork on which of the lights she’d stop and turn around at.         won, but at what cost ?         because there stood fred;         blipping out  &  into the night in the odd tempo the light above them offers,         and there sat shiloh,         finding an aesthetic to it that matches something   familiar in a way that should pose as several warnings.         matches the fleeting few of their recent encounters,  in fact,    despite them being closer than the usual ‘ close ’ they’ve  both known but shiloh abandons presented motif as soon as it crept its way into that caustic brain of theirs and doesn’t dwell on any of it now.   for everyone’s sake.         ‘‘  freddie fucking golding  ....  headed out ??     in  ??      did not see you back there and i am trying to find out if i should be a cunt or the wise old man to your crack heroine of the night about it.  ’’

     “  hey, landon. it’s uhm  -- ——  it’s shiloh.       i know, this is kind of weird and maybe a little fucked up but uh, my phone’s dead and i’m at work and i, um, nabbed your number from cricket’s phone  -- ——   who actually, get this, has his passcode as yifflordnineteen-nintyeight.           yifflord nineteen minus nintyeight, dude.           all fucking letters,  it’s nuts,  like who has time to pull up a whole keyboard to unlock a phone ?           because now he looks even more suspicious but maybe his mole legit shifts positions and face ID couldn’t be an option, i guess and wow, here i go,   being a dick and a pussy at the same time, okay shiloh !  *e-girl giggles; it’s like fuckboy laughing but worse*  whatever, this is stupid.  anyway.           look, man, i was going through some of the old stuff i got lying around earlier and turns out most of it is technically yours and it’s kind of timely, i know, but i guess it got me thinking about how things used to be.           how you’ve always been around and how good it was before...well, you know. the accident. and i just  -- ——   i’ve been wanting to talk ??      for a while now ??    like, maybe after my shift’s over in ten minutes, you could, i dunno’, stop by or we could meet up at mine ?           i mean i kind of got it all for myself and i really, really want us to talk and i know you’d be down to talk, too.....           because last i heard, that’s what you’ve been doing anyway.           right, landon ??           just wah wah crying and pulling the sexy leo-shaped-hemorrhoid out of your ass to anyone who’s listening and know what, i’m kind of over it now.           like, i don’t know what you’re telling people about my used tampon breath or whatever,           but i’m sure you’re not telling them shit about the literal needle cushion you call your pubes, so i figured hey, we could unpack that shit and get the story straight as a couple  -   since you can’t find it in you to tell it right.              so, how ‘bout it ?           i’ll be waiting out with a pubes per-i mean valentine’s gift i got just for you.    mwah !  ”            /            @fortyfivcs ,  ( bonus cameos in shilohvision: @ncbodyshome    &    @cvastals  )

@psychoanaliesme: @bruisedgrannysmith (i accept this peace offering til next time as i gallivant to give pearl harbor a 4 star letterboxd review for josh harnett alone but w a troubled conscience knowing that mich*el b*y + that movie shouldn't see the light day bt what can i say? i love to have fun)

@bruisedgrannysmith: @psychoanaliesme and you simply shouldn't. one old fuck at a time and you know *they're* coming.

@bruisedgrannysmith: @psychoanaliesme absolutely can believe ill have to kill mich*el b*y for his many crimes against humanity but now including bulldozing your childhood..... not baby jules.... my old rage for that man will never know demise but i will foresee his.

@psychoanaliesme: @bruisedgrannysmith b4 i die by ur hands (sexc btw cant wait). i must know one (1) thing...

@psychoanaliesme: @bruisedgrannysmith plz tell me ur referring to josh harnett. if its that other fucker ill come over to ur house and end us both (threat)

@bruisedgrannysmith: @psychoanaliesme always.

@psychoanaliesme: @bruisedgrannysmith thinking ab how jealousy is a disease + wishing u well [image: tinyurl.com/o9zzymmg]

@bruisedgrannysmith: @psychoanaliesme no bc its the fact that you wld know better than that and this is v targeted. v evil. v sinister. i enjoy one yt man and you come to demean and my intellegence in chosing you as my eternal foe like this. in front of god, our evil audience who wants to see us fuck the most and the rest.