I can’t write you a song because I’m traveling, but how about a pick up line? One’s coming up!
But you aren’t asking twice because this message didn’t ask for anything; it just implied that I missed a first asking (for which I’m sorry). What do you want? Don’t send me cryptic messages.
I’m in Nashville, and a materialistic Willie Nelson just told my fortune.
My five-year-old sister got a fortune cookie, and I read it to her; it said, “Your principles are more important to you than money or fame.” Two minutes later she turns to our brother and says, “I got a good one. It said my principal owes me lots of money.”
How come we only celebrate Eves on Christmas and New Year? I like late night partying. I want Birthday’s Eve, Presidents Day’s Eve, etc.
If you don’t fit in, fit out. Whatever part of you won’t fit in the box, the parts of you that hang over the edge, your colors that are outside of the lines—wear them proudly. And loudly. Life’s not about fitting in someone else’s box; it’s about saying, “fuck boxes.” And you know what’s ironic? The “weirdos” who do this and embrace how they’re different end up being the ones that everyone likes. At the very least, they are the only ones who like themselves.
When you said no to the other,
I thought I could get a yes.
But turns out your no was a maybe,
and he’s still there in your chest.
Maybes just won’t cut it
for a boy like me.
Can’t you hear my voice?
It screams:
yes,
yes,
yes.
I wrote this song for Caitlin on request from her reddit Secret Santa, Kyle. He told me about her passion for Zelda games and gave me a list of her six favorite Pokémon, then I merged the LOZ and Poké universes with ours for a bit of gamer Christmas cheer. We should all be glad that Santa chose Caitlin to save Christmas in Hyrule. Happy Holidays! — Kavalier Calm
Thanks, friend. Tbh, I’m in a relationship so the pick up lines are fake. Well, not fake. Just not attempted. I just like using the conceit of “girl at the bar” as a way of practicing writing dialogue. It’s important to practice getting girls. That’s how I got mine.
Your Hands
Your hands aren’t very pretty,
but they do pretty things
to see.
Scarred and bruised
from tirelessly shaping
me.
I’m a better man
for the time spent in your hands.
Thank you for breaking your bones
to sculpt my hard stone.
Your hands aren’t very soft,
but they soften all of life’s
blows.
Strong and sure
guiding my wild river’s
flow.
CH
I want to be alone in my loneliness.
I want to be so alone, no one knows I’m alone.
But it’s impossible.
There’s always someone in the way,
someone to point out my loneliness
and try to fill the void.
I laugh when people cry about being alone
because they aren’t.
We are all surrounded by thousands of people,
terrible people who are ready to love us,
who are that close to loving us.
Even when we want to be alone.
Then don’t wait to fall into it. Go jump into it.