so far today:
requested transcripts from both my university and my high school, fairly easy, cheaper than I thought, v nice
got e-mail from new school telling me that my name and date of birth do not match the information attached to my social security number and that I now have to provide proof of who I am ????? things not explained: how to provide said proof, how to “log in” to account to discover other steps I need to take toward enrollment (what is my log in information? how do I obtain said information if I cannot reply to this e-mail and it has not been provided in any other e-mail? why does your website seem to say I need to have an e-mail registered with your school? what kind of time warp do I need to enter for all of this to be possible? what kind of games are we playing?) oh my GOD
called the goddamn people who keep claiming I am someone named Marie and that I have a student loan with them. they apologized profusely as obviously I am not Marie and I have enough to pay off without paying off someone else’s shit?? how did my information become attached to this???? what the hell is going on??? NO I AM NOT GOING TO GIVE EVERYONE MY GODDAMN SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER???
the number of times I have to enter my social security number to jump through these hoops is making me so nervous I am going to throw up??? I keep waiting for someone to steal my identity. “WRONG FORM PAL” they will shout, cackling. “YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE CALLED THEM BACK!” etc. eventually I will click “submit form” and beneath me will open a trap door. I will fall straight into the fiery pits of Hell. “what a relief,” I will say, sighing as the flames lick at my flesh. Satan himself will pass me a dirty martini. “this tastes like gasoline,” I will say, grimacing. he will laugh. “of course it does. but it’s like you said—at least you don’t have to sign anything else electronically.” I sip my cocktail and feel it in my lungs, my liver, my whole body. the very existence of the IRS is seared from my brain. I sigh again, happily. “true,” I reply.
I made a dentist appointment for the 26th of August here’s hoping I get more than one babysitting job in between now and then so I can afford to probably have my wisdom teeth yanked out

miniature bridges, your mouth
by marty mcconnell

what we do in the dark has no hands. no
crossover effect, no good-bye kiss after the alarm.
what we carry in, we carry out, end of story. this
doesn’t even want to be love. except in minutes
when your face has the shape of my palm and I think
lungful. let want out with the cat. returns
and returns, something dutiful. persistent.
hold your breath, let it build, let go. this is practice.
I’m losing weight, a bad sign, I’m happy. serious,
you say. contained, I think. the cat comes back
with a dead bird to the doorstep, an offering. bloodless
this should be easy. a two-step to cowboys. you’re beautiful
but that’s not the point.

x

I know my way back perfectly well. like the back
of my hand, as it were. but look, the labyrinth walls
are high hedge and green. this also could be joy.

xx

I literally don’t know your middle name. does that
matter? what systems we arrange for intimacy, small
disclosures like miniature bridges, your mouth. not
what I’d anticipated. softer. to begin with,
I should tell the truth more. I could miss you,
and that’s a liability.

xxx

I am not often off-kilter. but you’re so silent, even
naked, and almost absent. I hush too, why
are we here. go. want to throw things, you, the clock,
break windows until something bleeds and you finally
scream. I tell you too much; we are not
those people. or nothing–maybe I say
utilitarian fuck. how would that be. I want you
to want to fall in love with me and that’s
unhealthy. wrong. leave your shoes by the door
and pretend it’s about the movie. it’s love
in the movies it’s casablanca and toy story
and water no ice come here. pockets need
to be untucked, drawers thrown open,
nobody’s safe. there, I’ve said it:
someone I was could have loved you.

(Source: explaintheocean.wordpress.com, via orangesinabowl)

Anonymous
Can you explain to me the dfab, fmab and any others I have missed. I have been seeing them around later but do not understand their meanings. Thank you

captoring:

dfab means designated female at birth. fmab means Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood

what if all of my selfies from now on involve me drinking things as a method of reminding myself to hydrate? I keep forgetting it recently and I can’t figure out why I feel so dreadful and IT’S BECAUSE I’M SO THIRSTY… also: went w/ my sister to get a mani/pedi and restrained from getting my eyebrows done as well because MONEY but now of course my nails look great and my eyebrows still look like shit. thinking of buying some of those stencils from ELF to see if it helps my hopeless ass. also also: it’s still pouring and my skin is so oily, and I’m not wearing any make-up at all and whew. oh man. some days. me.

the 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice is still one of my favorite movies. I’ve watched it just now and I am full of joy and apologies to my girl Keira because I believe I said something earlier this week after Atonement about her always playing the same person but you know what, Keira. you go ahead and you play subtle variations on the same girl. you do it so well, I love it so much, etc

galasai:

Giorgio Di Salvo
Abbracci, 2012