The Last Two Or Three Weeks Alone Could Fill An Entire Verse Of We Didnt Start The Fire

the last two or three weeks alone could fill an entire verse of we didn’t start the fire

dog nicknames are always like “goodest boi” or “sweetie pie” or “lil floofy” but here is a list of things i call my fish on a regular basis:

- My Son

- old sport

- sport

- little guy

- sir

- child of divorce

EDIT: thanks for all the love on this, Holden died in February but every time i get notified for this it makes me happy to know how appreciated he is.

The frustration of falling in love with a live performance of a piece of music, and then finding that you can't recapture that magic again to share it with someone else... You look for a recording of the piece to share, but the tempo is wrong, it's either too fast or too slow, the particular artistic decisions made by the director are different (Wrong! Surely if they'd heard it the way you did, they'd know there's clearly no other way to perform it!), the flavor of the voices is altogether different, and the acoustics of the very room are changed... And you realize that your experience of that piece was all a strange and wonderful alchemy that cannot be repeated. What a tragic but somehow beautiful thing.

did anyone else form a very personal connection to the diary of Anne Frank in middle school and feel like you were holding your breath your whole fifteenth year only to realize you were outliving her, continue to outlive her, continue to grow like she deserved to and you die a little inside or is that just me

i keep unsuccessfully attempting to explain to my mom and sister that Michael Crawford’s Phantom has a *tangy* voice, please tell me i’m not the only one who gets it