The American Virgin

* Ask a Virgin * About Me * Poetry *  Virgin(s) *
Rekindling America & her spirit, her lust for sprawling adventure.


I have like three options right now, which is nice, but also horrifying.

July, 29th 2014 @ 01:41 / Permalink

Yeah. I’m good.

I’m done. —for a while at least— I mean, I’ll go to the concert, but I’m not feeling her feeling it.

July, 28th 2014 @ 19:41 / Permalink

Lord, let me have sex with Emily Ratajkowski. Please.

July, 27th 2014 @ 21:20 / Permalink

This guy who takes improv classes with me just moved seats away from me because I told him I didn’t like Hillary Clinton. What a creep.

July, 27th 2014 @ 18:36 / Permalink

I haven’t been home in such a long time that I don’t think I can actually handle going back. It’s not true that I’ve “avoided” returning home, I just have nothing left there besides my family (who comes out to Chicago every few months) and a friend from high school. It’s interesting how I really only stay in contact with two person I went to high school with, probably because I’ve found more than enough people here to take their place. It’s sad, almost. Almost. But it’s not as sad as knowing people exclusively from high school, or returning back home and staying like the countless failures turned out of the great machine that everyone so desperately relies on for some sick and twisted comfort in knowing that things will always stay just so, and you can always eat at the Lobster House and go to the beach, and you can always become essentially nothing as far as the rest of humanity is concerned and be perfectly content in basking in the Memorial to Labor Day sun. It’s exhausting. I have some ties, but they are loose. The last tight ones were cut some months ago. C’est la vie, c’est la guerre.

July, 27th 2014 @ 12:26 / Permalink
themanonfive:

John Hancock Center and Palmolive Building c. 1969

themanonfive:

John Hancock Center and Palmolive Building c. 1969

a postscript on an american love

when the southern air

gently calls—swinging 

through the hands of ghosts;

men being gentle amongst that

awful will to love, but when you

have hated—my

name

and i sense my people lurch

across a country so vast

to only find the plains before

mountains—someone for so long, 

because after years i am no longer

surprised, i can no longer hate, 

, settled down unto dust

and slowly ascend into a greatness,

into her vacant arms,

and beyond their own indomitable  

flight—god and why

this, our land turns

to plight.

July, 27th 2014 @ 11:38 / 1 / Permalink
July, 27th 2014 @ 11:37 / 23813 / Permalink

Insanity reigns king.

July, 27th 2014 @ 10:40 / Permalink

Hannah by Ray Lamontagne is the most beautiful song every written. If you disagree with me, fuck you.

July, 26th 2014 @ 23:28 / Permalink

2 to 1

Or 2-2, or whatever.

July, 25th 2014 @ 23:45 / Permalink

My band is going into the studio in two weeks to record our EP. It should be fun. It is fun being an indie artist.

July, 25th 2014 @ 22:47 / Permalink