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Something terrible happened in my neighborhood last night, and in a small and screwed-up cosmic way, it’s partly my fault.
I have a long and storied history of people dying after I think about them, typically within 24 hours. My friends think it’s funny and I get teased for it. It certainly makes for a great party story. I’m not making light of anyone’s death - I’m shaken to the core about the one from this morning - but I would like to lay out the complete history of my thoughtmurders once and for all because it’s starting to freak me out.
It’s a long one. Because, you know. Because I’m such a prolific murderer, I guess.
Shannon Hoon - October 21, 1995
I’m 11 years old. I write a love letter to Blind Melon’s lead singer, Shannon Hoon, on the grounds that he has long hair and tattoos and is therefore dreamy. My sister has proven herself to be an expert at snooping, so when she asks “Whatcha writing over there, HUH?” I am filled with so much terror that I fold the love letter in half as many times as I physically can, stash it in a margarine container, and bury the whole affair in the back yard. Hoon dies inside of a week.
aca no las conocen :: NORTH STAR
Cuando pequeño tuve north star pero antes tuve las aeroflex que eran una version de tenis en caucho y daban tanta pecueca que la profesora de religión entraba y decia: -huele a caldo e
when i was in highschool i sorta half liked this amazingly shit screamo band called from first to last
imagine my surprise when i learned that the lead singer, sonny moore, actually went on to become skrillex (also pretty shit)
Piercings are wrong, shaved spot on the wrong side.
Don’t leave this shit on our tag please.
It’s been an absolutely crazy past couple of days - so much has happened. Hopefully I’ll be able to remember it all! As a broad overview, during the program orientation, we led the students around to some of Kyoto’s most famous temples and sites, and then we split up on Saturday to our respective…