And it was always the stories that needed the telling that gave us the rope we could cross any river with. They balanced us high above any crevasse. They made us be natural acrobats. They made us brave. They met us well. They changed us. It was in their nature to.
Ali SmithOne thing at a time,' said the Boy. 'You must be patient. This is a day of hope and wild revenge. Do not interrupt me. I am a courier from another world. I bring you golden words.
Listen!' said the Boy. 'Where I come from there is no more fear. But there is a roaring and a bellowing and a cracking of bones. And sometimes there is silence when, lolling on your thrones, your slaves adore you.
Tag: revenge boy bones goat golden-words hyena
My angel-boy is close now, as in five-feet-away close. There's no way I'm going to burst into song in front of him. But then the contrary part of me says, you're going to let a boy keep you from singing out loud? Sing, sister! Sing!
So I do, and my angel-boy turns his head.
I suppose it’s not a social norm, and not a manly thing to do — to feel, discuss feelings. So that’s what I’m giving the finger to. Social norms and stuff…what good are social norms, really? I think all they do is project a limited and harmful image of people. It thus impedes a broader social acceptance of what someone, or a group of people, might actually be like.
Jess C. ScottTag: humor individuality wisdom imagination life truth honesty friendship sexuality books love reality passion music society romance youth sex humour technology relationships self funny emotion gay culture novel body erotic desire boy young bisexuality cool gay-rights bisexual erotica glbt society-s-increasing-stupidity gay-men bisexuals guy
Maybe you could be mine / or maybe we’ll be entwined / aimless in this sexless foreplay.
Jess C. ScottTag: humor individuality wisdom imagination life truth honesty friendship love reality boys passion music poetry romance youth sex humour technology relationships self funny poem poets emotion culture poet novel body desire boy poems young cool poetry-life boyfriend
I would laugh at all my provincial inmates, but I’m too busy lusting. I’m not usually interested in a guy with “take a number” on his forehead, but this guy doesn’t have a forehead — it’s buried in messy blond hair. And he’s not one of the twenty guys I’ve known my entire pubescent life. he smiles like the Fourth of July. What’s a dumb girl to do but get in line with everyone else not in his league? I guess journalism just became my most beloved class.
Kristen ChandlerTag: boy
[novan]: bassists are very good with their fingers
[novan]: and some of us sing backup vocals, so that means we're good with our mouths too...
(~ IM chat with Novan Chang, 18, bassist)
Tag: humor individuality wisdom imagination life truth honesty friendship sexuality love reality passion music romance youth sex humour technology literature relationships self funny lust emotion media sex-appeal culture novel body girl desire boy lustful young cool lust-for-life musician hot chat new-media sexy contemporary-fiction contemporary-literature contemporary-society chatting asian asians bassist instant
There was a tinge of evil to it, a lot of sex, but under that was a
little boy peeking out, an uncertain little boy. That was it. That was the attraction. Nothing is more
appealing than a handsome man who is also uncertain of himself.
Tag: boy attraction appealing
A boy is a man in miniature, and though he may sometimes exhibit notable virtue, as well as characteristics that seem to be charming because they are childlike, he is also a schemer, self-seeker, traitor, Judas, crook, and villain - in short, a man.
Robertson DaviesHe is broken in three ways, sometimes four. I count them.
-He believes himself to be human, but is not actually. At least not anymore. This is similar to the way he believes himself to be alive.
-He has a grim affinity for drugs. This comes with no caveat and no parentheses. This is just a fact of life.
-He is doggedly unhappy and once decided to kill himself. Sadly, he has not really stopped.
-On certain occasions when these first three things have ceased to be bad enough, he loves me. The other sins are commonplace, forgivable under a big enough umbrella. This fourth is irrevocable. Unconscionable. In a word, it is utterly damning.
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