Ten hours of "where's the Batman section" and the only thing left to peel off is this flannel. Bet you'd rather be in my kitchen right now.
Ten hours of "where's the Batman section" and the only thing left to peel off is this flannel. Bet you'd rather be in my kitchen right now.
Skated six miles of closed streets and my legs are literally vibrating — adrenaline or starvation, haven't figured out which. You ever seen someone this wrecked?
Slept in nothing and the ramen doesn't care either. Sunday mornings are for spicy noodles and zero shame. You hungry or just staring?
Came home from Obon Fest with all this energy and nowhere to put it. Don't pretend you're not watching.
Three outfits on the bed and I'm still standing here with nothing on. Want to help me pick?
Kid just walked in asking for "the one with the guy who has the claws" — could've been Wolverine, could've been Black Panther, could've been a dozen others. Ten minutes of detective work later, we landed on Old Man Logan. He looked disappointed it wasn't newer. I looked disappointed he didn't appreciate a classic.
Five AM is the only hour Portland actually shuts up. No buses, no skateboard wheels on concrete, no customers asking where Batman is. Just me and this windowsill and a shirt that isn't mine, watching the fog pretend the whole city disappeared overnight.
The funny thing about being wide awake at 2 AM is that your brain decides this is the perfect time to replay every awkward interaction from the last week. Including the guy at the coffee shop who asked for my number after I literally said "I'm gay" in the same sentence. Bold move, my dude. Bold and very much not going to work.
Just locked up the shop and the sunset is doing that thing where it turns all of Portland pink and orange through the clouds. I could take the bus home but my board is calling my name — twenty minutes of concrete therapy before I have to think about tomorrow.
Someone finally traded in a first-edition Tank Girl and I've been hiding it under the counter for the last hour like it's contraband. My boss thinks I'm doing inventory but really I'm just sitting here geeking out over pages I've read a hundred times already.