The weatherroommates and I are in mourning today for the loss of our couchmate, who after a week and a half of biting the hands that fed him, has decided to move in with the neighbors and use their couch.
Although this may suit his habits of staying up until 4 a.m. playing video games and sleeping until noon, the weatherroommates and I will miss the sight of someone else wearing our clothes.
Thursday’s forecast: Come back, weathercouchmate. Leech.
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“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
