[Flash 10 is required to watch video]
at least it was here - the 88
aka the community theme song
People like this make me want to make myself better as a person.
(via communitythings)
When a man at a bar gives you a knife as a gift
you take it.
“Dan Harmon is Community” -Portrait Illustration by Sam Spratt
A quick tribute to Community’s lost showrunner. Brilliant mind. Can’t wait to see what he makes next.
The first and only time I went to California
I watched Biker Boyz on a plane in first class. I was eleven and the headphones were free and I hadn’t made enough black friends yet to really understand black culture yet so this was my first delving into what I assumed all those rap songs were about. They were not.
The movie wasn’t memorable. The plot was tired. And Laurence Fishburne thought he was the baddest bad ass to ever ass bad. And I grew up on PeeWee’s PlayHouse, so Cowboy Curtis’s bike riding shit didn’t fly with me. Also, Kid Rock hung out with more black people in that film than was humanly possible for a real-life Joe Dirt.
But what was so terribly unforgettable about this movie was that even at eleven, I realized just how bad this movie was and I still thought California would have some weird semblance of this culture. So, while my family toured Long Beach and the piers and aquariums that seemed to flood the overly white portions of Orange County, I was desperately keeping watch for all-black biker gangs.
(Source: the-loveliest)
WHY DID THEY FIRE THIS MAN.
(Source: criticalfilmstudies, via communitythings)
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
― Ernest Hemingway
Insomnia Log: Night 3
Tonight, I got drunk and watched my friend challenge a newly 21 year-old girl to a beer chugging contest and destroy her with no shame on his face and then I missed every single shot in a game of pool and lost miserably but watched a girl shake her butt in front of each pocket of the pool table to distract my friend from making shots and then I went to a house and was way too allergic to the cats there to stay for more than an hour and now I’m in bed typing this with almost no ability to move my body beyond my fingers and it was still a great night. Sometimes, I guess it’s less insomnia than it is just living a full life. I’m glad I can admit that some days I live a full life.
I’ve decided this tumblr is going to become a log for my insomnia
Log Night 2: It’s almost five in the morning and I spent the entire evening after work drinking beers and confiscating a bench from my friend who is moving out. I’ve always wanted a bench. Also I looked through about five thousand magic cards searching for anything worth selling. I am blown away by the prospect that a collection of cardboard could probably fetch me just shy of a grand if I take the time to find things worth money. I wonder if, in thirty years, Antique’s Roadshow will have experts on Pokemon cards telling our grandchildren that the foil Charizard they found in our sock drawer after we died was actually worth five hundred dollars. I hope they aren’t worth that in thirty years, but for now I will let a website pay me five dollars per thousand cards. I have a lot of thousands of cards. I can’t tell if that’s a sad thing to admit to the internet/people I actually know that follow this blog. I can tell, however, that I am okay with admitting these types of things lately.
