i confess my growing, gnawing fondness. i know i should stop, but no, this impending self-destruction smells so sweet, like blood in the air, like the taste of a cigarette on my lips.
how would you like me, clad in shame on a silver platter, on your doorstep.
i know this will end badly. yet i dig the knife deeper into my thigh and scream for more.
.i.can’t.fucking.stop.
.can’t.fucking.stop.
.fucking.stop.
.stop.
Filed under: electrifying
three weeks to exams! no time to waste! chug away girl! for that dream to move 3500 kilometres across australia!
Filed under: electrifying
Don’t you love that feeling when you finish a brilliant book and your mind is just blank with astonishment from the brilliance of the author? Murakami rocks my socks off, especially since i read books for prose(and plot).
Neways, here’s a passage from Pinball 1973, which i absofuckinglutely(say it the way Mr. Big says it in Sex and the City) love.
“Dreamily she closed her eyes and pressed against the Rat. From his shoulder on down, the Rat felt the supple weight of her body. An odd sensation, that weight. This being that could love a man, bear children, grow old, and die; to think one whole existence was in this weight. The Rat took a cigarette from his pack and lit up. Every once in a while a sea breeze would sweep up the slope from below and rustle the pine trees. Maybe she had really fallen asleep. The Rat put his hand to her cheek, then touched a fingertip to her lips. He felt her breath, warm and humid.”
