for all those times you can’t hail a cab on 8th ave. and be all why god why just stop and remind yourself they all having crazy tailgate party at JFK and you not invited so deal.
Letter from composer Bela Bartok to his son. “The clouds are again trying to come in through the window.”
OMG someone revoke my tumblr privileges like now please. Or burn this Sears catalog circa 1984. Or award me with a medal of excellence. Or call my accountant about my 401(k). Or make me a new oboe reed. I am ready for white snakes.