My friend has an apartment
A trade
A conventional relationship
With a good girl to settle down with
She's lovely, really
And when we talk he gives me that smile
That smile
That laugh
That says he's grown up
And he's waiting for me to catch up

And it hurts because I have nothing he has.

But then I think
He's the same as he was in highschool
He'd finished growing then
So he thought
His highschool sweetheart
His highschool job
His highschool ambitions

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This is a filler blog, hi. Not dead yet. I caught my flight and so on, didn't crash, barely broke my arm fighting the flight attendant, etc.

So, I'm going to do another big fuck-off bronycon dramatization roundup blog thing soon, but I'm currently in Budapest, partially because the name is similar to "Barcelona", I am not very good at reading, and -- as I just said -- I got into a pretty big fight with a flight attendant back there at the Baltimore airport.

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So here's a bit of a backstory:

You hear that? That's the sound of your nipples getting hard at the mere thought of what lies underneath the line break. You have probably never wondered how Aragón poetry sounds like -- but, guess what, darling?

You might find out anyway.

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