dance coma!, Mr. Waits, you can come over and eat my birthday...

dance coma!

Mr. Waits, you can come over and eat my birthday cake and open up my presents early if you want to, you beautifully eccentric motherfucker. Thought you should know.

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my favourite part of any night is the journey to the dance coma.

you'll notice that i vacillate between maintaining this blog as a record of self-important, wordy thoughts and letting it devolve into the internet equivalent of my bedroom walls in high school.

in a world poised on the brink of madness, leonardo dicaprio, red wine, and cigarettes make me feel safe.