Apparently a tornado touched the hipster-stained streets of Brooklyn yesterday, and instead of rallying a large, rowdy group of people armed with cameras and iphones to chase after it, I was sleeping. I had no idea that swirling torrent of wind and rats (instead of cows) was tearing through the streets as I was startled into consciousness, almost hitting my head on the ceiling. All I knew was that my bed was not going to withstand the windy weather. Through my window I could hear the wind screaming obscenities as it crashed into everything in its path with violent intensity. What I heard it saying was, "Your loft bed from ikea is giving me a f&^cking headache. I'm gonna have to tear that sh&t down." And instead of scrambling out of it to safer grounds, I stayed up there. It was like I wanted the bed to break. I wanted to be in it if it fell to pieces and wrecked my entire room. It was a weird feeling. I'm a weird kid.
I may write more later...
Aaaand here it is...
So, if you didn't see it. I actually wrote "right more later..." instead of "write..." I've been finding myself making more and more mistakes like that which are not only embarrassing because of my love of words and my degree in freaking literature, but because I absolutely hate it when other people make those mistakes. It drives me nuts, and now I can't be mad because I AM one of those people- devoid of proper mechanics and grammar, turning my back on the literary tradition, desecrating an art. I should be shot... just in the foot, though.
I've been listening to a lot of Bob Marley lately because... well, I like him. He has so many awesome songs that are not mainstream that he sings- duh. Also, I know I'm not the only one who gets annoyed/uncomfortable when people sing "Redemption Song" at the top of their lungs at bars. That is not a freakin karaoke jam, people. It's just not.
That's the stuff. yeah.
I'm out.
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