Currently listening to:the thrill by wiz khalifa vs Empire of the sun

I really am getting less and less coherent as february progresses. It distresses me. My dreams, also, have started to lose their cogency. Last night I had a nightmare about a hairdresser who chopped off my blonde bits. It was tactfully pointed out to me today that if my worst nightmares consist being separated from my long hair, then my concerns in life might be slightly.. misplaced.

I swear to you i had a legitimate reason for coming here today.

Oh yes.

“Give and you damn well shall receive”

NTU HSS FOC is canvassing this Valentine’s Day- usually i’d diss vday sales as a commercialized waste of money BUT surprise surprise they actually are rather decently priced. I remember roses being ridiculously expensive last Valentine’s, obviously the society’s exploitation of girls like me who are suckers for the stupidly cliche flowers.

Some of the stuff they’re selling:

Ferrero Rocher Bouquet
1 stalk = $1.50
3 in a bouquet = $6.00
6 in a bouquet = $12.00
9 in a bouquet = $18.00

Wrapped-up Live Roses
1 stalk = $3.50
3 in a bouquet = $10.00
(Special Order) 9 in a bouquet = $29.00 – for pre-orders only!!!

Ferrero + Live Roses
2 Ferrero + 1 Rose = $7.00
4 Ferrero + 2 Rose = $14.00
6 Ferrero + 3 Rose = $20.00

See what i mean.

More details here.

You are welcome.

also, two years ago, my favorite valentine’s day poem:

over breakfast,
my father asks what you see in me.
I bite the inside of my cheek,
shove a forkful of pancakes into my mouth,
notice the salt shaker eyeing my wounds.

you launch “I love yous”
from a Brooklyn fire escape.
they travel 3,000 postcard miles
and collapse into my ear, exhausted.
I pinch their noses,
breathe new life into their lungs,
fold them into airplanes,
send them back to you
and wait.

there isn’t a building
taller than two stories
here in Orange County.
not a single fire escape.
no point in jumping.
the worst that could happen
is a broken leg or heart.
this is why the sad kids get
so goddamn creative around here.
the mayor’s son rigged his noose
to raise with the garage door
when the Mercedes came home.
a nine-year old leapt into the lion’s cage
at Prentice Park Zoo after
her dog was hit by a car.

on our wedding day,
when I tell you “I do,”
it’s because I do.
it’s because you understand
how ten-thousand dollar apologies
still keep fathers worthless,
it’s because my ribcage expands
every time I think of you,
it’s for all the things
you see in me

and pretend
not to notice.

your airplanes/ rachel mckibbens

happy early overcommercializedexpensivelovebirds day, you guys.