I’ve spent the past few minutes trying to think of a joke that would work with this snippet as a punchline but couldn’t so here’s the punchline without the joke maybe you can help think of part one.

Made a movie poster.

Made a movie poster.

"After reportedly sneaking into the Kennedy compound in Hyannisport on Tuesday night, having a lovely chat with Ted Kennedy Jr.’s son, and relaxing with a book, he told cops he was just looking for Katy Perry."

Gawker wrote about me.

"I didn’t realize…I thought that was gay life. We didn’t know. We thought that that was what being gay was: Party at somebody’s friend’s house, disco, bathhouse, afterwards we’d eat ice cream sodas at one of these places on Sheridan Square, and then go to the trucks, and then go to the piers, and after the piers, go into the bushes in Central Park, and that was the gay life. It was nothing; it was just pure sex. Loads of sex, sex, sex on top of sex, but all in the dark, and I remember praying at the baths, “God, get me out!” ‘cause they’re all skinny shaved-headed guys on these bunks, and it looked just like Auschwitz, and, “Oh, God, get me out of these bathhouses, I hate it!” I thought gay and slut and addict is all the same thing, and it’s not. I realized that, in South Dakota, a backroom was where you keep the beer. I thought everything was a backroom for gay men, you see?"

The Pull - The Awl


When I’m writing an essay and trying to make the word count.

(via tyleroakley)

This is important news and the only person who cares is a Twitter bot.

This is important news and the only person who cares is a Twitter bot.

i don’t understand weird al’s appeal

Tags: tbh

"Some people make us feel more human and some people make us feel less human and that is a fact as much as gravity is a fact and maybe there are ways to prove it, but the proof of it matters less that the existence of it—how a stranger can show up and look at you and make you make more sense to yourself and the world, even if that sense is extremely fragile and only comes around occasionally and is prone to wander or fade—what matters is that sometimes sense is made between two people and I don’t know if it’s random or there is any kind of order to it, what combinations of people work the best and why and how do we find these people and how do we keep these people around, and I don’t know if it’s chaos or not chaos but it feels like chaos to me so I suppose it is."

Catherine Lacey’s Nobody Is Ever Missing is filled with sentences as beautiful as this one. Typing it out was exhausting but also wonderful because I got to revisit it.

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