At 3:40, Regis slaps Nicki Minaj on the ass.
Where is the outrage?
Jesus Christ. Kanye West takes away a white girl’s mic and suddenly he’s hounded by the media and boo’d in public. Regis sexually harasses a black woman and, hey, no one gives a fuck. We’ll just call it a love-tap, right? Or a joke. He was just joking, right?
Fuck that shit. I ask again: where is the outrage? Why is this acceptable?
When I’m dancing like
and some creep comes up behind me and dances like
And I turn around like
And he’s like
And I’m like
And I walk away like
And he play’s it off like
and then I see a fine shawdy dancing like
And I’m like
and I go over to him and we start dancing like
and then a bad ass song comes on, and we’re like
And the rejected guy looks at me like
And I’m like
and he’s like
and I’m like
I really like it.
This is a pointless post.
I am going to bed.
There is a janitor mopping the floor of our bathroom. She has been in there cleaning for almost an hour now. My lazy ass wouldn’t get up early like I should have, so I missed my opportunity to get ready before she came. I’m already late for work, probably won’t end up going in until 11 at this rate. I need to shower!
Fuck that, I need to pee!! The bathroom down the hall is locked! AHHH
that if you knew you were being irrational or thinking irrational thoughts, that you should then be able to stop and return to logic? It seems like the crazies should lose their power once rational thoughts point out, “Hey, you’re not really making sense right now.”
I guess if the irrationality stems from something else left unfixed despite your awareness, it wouldn’t make a difference.
I’m trying to write a paper right now, and irrationality is winning. I wish I could afford to sleep this off.
you a big L, and I ain’t talking bout Cool J.” —
I sit here, invisible
watching people pass me by.
I speak not
so the words sitting just upon my tongue
come barreling back
whipping into a frenzy of
grey matter and what matters,
a twister tearing through
my thoughts of who I thought I was.
Synapses spark in rapid fire
pop pop pop
And the whites of my eyes roll
from this mundane scene.
As my pupils roll into the back of my head,
they see themselves
reflected upside down on my retina
Eyes watching eyes
watching eyes watching I’s.
I’s of self-doubt and can’t this and can’t that
flit through forests of neural fibers,
enmeshing themselves irreversibly.
What am I doing?
Why am I living?
Am I living?
My eyes narrow with disgust.
Selfish, they say without saying.
There are 25 other letters you’re forgetting.
Am I selfish?
What am I contributing to this place?
What can I do that’s meaningful?
My eyes stare boldly at their reflection.
You don’t get it.
Who ever said you were important enough
to help at all?