schmoses

^wow. this became the topic of the workday about an hour ago. everyone just started going on about it.

the blame game is pummeling my heart's strings right now. damn you konman.

damnit vamp! you beat me to them pics! gar card put it DOWN dinnithe?

amped amped AMPED!

bump for a great bag. a close friend has it. the thing is perfect for school, work or stashing severed limbs. quality is major. copitcopitKOPIT!

is it the shoes or the whole?

child's play x sears surprise collabo?

feelin' wistful

what are the measurements on the dior homme trousers?

owen pallett's don't stop is a JAM

damn painful impacted wisdom tooth

has anyone seen the pharrell/moncler parkas and gilets? reviews anyone?

talking on your cell phone at the gym. can you be a bigger douche?

also non-fat, no-elderly, or non-asthmatic heavy breathers

my mktg director is fukn retarded. she has her head so far up her vagina these days that everytime she breathes, clear viscous fluid should emit from her anus. i'm just SOOOO done with retards on a monday and just might start popping shots.

laura hollins. she is the big love.

louise pedersen. she is the middle aughts love.

amanda moore. she is the DUH love.

karen elson. she is the fuck all who gaga over christina hendricks love.

joan smalls. obviously.

1g + 2g =

hearing a receptionist discuss price points of crocs

balmain. yes, balmain.

bless you, tarotron

all apologies, guys. my mind was in the throes.

the reminder:

when hell freezes over, the fury chills, solidifies, remains...although severely less prevalent, it remains. what encompasses a major part of the anger space is the sadness, the loneliness, and the blinking. for in the blinking, tears are suppressed, memories arise semi-second-like and are felt with a (w)hole heart.

it itches, my heart. it's an un-scratchable itch. while dreams are still as realistically no, as tactile as before, you appear less and less...oh but when you do...we repair or rather, you repair. it's like i can see you presently in dream as i still feel you presently in your departure...and it feels good yet it hurts as much as your inability to be what once was and could have been. friends tire of my lagging behind. the "get over" speeches impugn conversations often, but can anyone understand? do even i understand? in the mornings, my right leg twitches while sleep floats in that somnambulist state. it's when i think about things the most. it's when i feel the need to kiss you because we awoke in each others' arms. can anyone understand how cruel you taking away us was? how close we were to thanksgiving? is it logical to lament something so obviously over? no

...but when did logic factor into anything i did in seeing you that first day? you did in ceasing us? logic matters to me nary an iota. yesterday i had a car. you wanted me to get a car and i had a car, but had no you. as the wind's gale couple with torrential downpours it somehow conjurers up what i beg to suppress and what i long to eradicate: you. winter comes, winter's coming and i think of how we longed for the cold. i think of the time you grabbed me, held me to you and said "i need your warmth." what do you do on cold days now?

once the snow comes things may only worsen. winter was the time. winter was the time. as time elapses imma move on and get over. i know that. time does that. yet daylight savings won't save me from this hold october's got me gripped tight in.

i never dreamed you'd leave in winter/why couldn't you stay.

ridin' durty for the dogs of war:

hellohihey,

it's like talking to a tombstone. do those who do such things feel satisfaction? is any type of re-conciliatory supplication achieved by that act? in a way, that's what i do daily with the long gone specter of you. what i did that last day was necessary to move on, yet my legs still feel weary. success was had that night, but easily not the kind i hoped for. you broke my heart and i needed you to...thank you for that...fuck you for that. i am again whole because of that death, yet that makes nothing any easier. on some days it's gratitude, on others anger, hatred, ill feelings. you hollowed out not just my heart when you left and refused to respond, you hollowed out me. everything in terms of social interaction with those i knew while dealing with you seems pointless now...save with ______, and of course ______. god! how can not talking with _____ even be an option??!! it's a viable option which i exercise on the daily, and although it's wrong, it just doesn't matter. laughter with the homies ain't the same so i choose not to even attempt a joke. it sucks to still miss you, so i don't say it aloud. i intern it and hope that the day when i don't comes soon. what you did, what we did, what i did: only you can tell me the rights, wrongs, proper/improper-ties of what it was. alls i can do is postulate. there is this inadequacy within me now because of you. this lack of self appreciation because you didn't or couldn't see what everyone else sees on the daily, and that negates every positive word or stare i have received in bulk since you left. i hate you for that. i gave you my heart on your doorstep and you never even peeked through the goddamn curtain. it was necessary for you to do this i know, but you never even said a word. i hate you for that. yet and still there is this optimism i foolishly hold on to that you will call or i will run into you, some bullshit like that. what would that change though? if i am better off for having known you why do i feel so inconsequential? all i can do these days is focus on getting the fuck out of ______. the memories here are too hurtful to hold onto oftentimes. i know i don't belong here. when you leave for ______, my wish is that you would let me know to say goodbye, but i have no faith that you would. what would that change anyway right? what would change what remains? anger, inadequacy, a pinch of sadness, isolation......you.

'oh wow fashion'

^what lenny said

8 out of 12 looks above

e0d9n0b5, check this out:

http://www.textileglobal.com/2010/09/first-look-martine-rose-for-timberland-%E2%80%98stratham%E2%80%99-bomber-jacket.html