words, of how terrible orange is

I was going to write something about oranges instead of sifting through my past week's worth of browsing history in order to assemble a psychological profile that maintains a genuine-seeming air of urbane verve and insouciant charm, but what do I know about oranges.
Let's take a moment for some Music Television.



I used to rock a fantastic flashdance routine to this whilst in my cups back in the day alone in my room, la zona fantasma. I went to my myspace page to mainly to see if my myspace was still there and partially to see if myspace was still there. I'd forgotten about the song Kahlil Blues that I'd made a million-and-a-half years ago. It takes a minute to warm up but it still sounds good on headphones loud with coffee.

This music makes me want to hugpunch a clownface



Let's write poems using only these word combinations and nothing else.


Popcorn!



The fox is my favorite.


Being able to understand German does not help one to understand this. I love it.



I wonder if you're on one of these trains and which sound does it make.


Goddamn, I love pictures of nothing in the middle of nowhere. Robert Adams talked about the photographic vernacular of the everyday and the strength that it drew from the closeness with which it skirted banality by saying something along the lines of "Show me a family album and I'll find you a great picture."



Jackie Clubs.


I want this song to have sex with my face.



oranges