tertium quid

milvertons: wonderful. 5*****

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 22:26:30 -0400

milvertons:

wonderful.

5*****

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Wed, 19 Jun 2013 17:00:48 -0400

My boyfriend is angry because I screamed Hamilton when we were having sex

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 14:32:50 -0400

i wonder if anyone actually called him by his last name during sex lmfao

i don't know if i was on drugs or if i didn't get that much sleep and started to hallucinate but i think i just saw hamilton dancing outside with a victorias secret thong on and he had his hair up with a lot of heavy makeup and he had several men dancing behind him like a parade

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 14:12:50 -0400

no no that was an impromptu Cher concert. easy mistake though.

I thought of you today while taking my math final after studying to your 'burrite party mansion' mix on 8tracks. For good or for ill, I began and finished the exam with 'Stripper' blasting in my head. I hope you're settling into Boston well. Sorry about the weather. -- Molly

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 14:10:08 -0400

oh my god Molly you are lovely

thank you

I have no furniture or cable and the only thing ive been doing all week is watching laughably bad...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 14:08:50 -0400

I have no furniture or cable and the only thing ive been doing all week is watching laughably bad movies

he was convinced that ‘no movie could be that gratuitously awful without having some sort of...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 14:06:03 -0400

he was convinced that ‘no movie could be that gratuitously awful without having some sort of ironic double meaning’ whereas I think monroe legitimately enjoyed ‘battlefield earth’

to be fair aaron burr once spent an entire afternoon eating fluffernutter sandwiches and watching...

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 13:53:36 -0400

to be fair aaron burr once spent an entire afternoon eating fluffernutter sandwiches and watching ‘showgirls’

james monroes favorite movie is probably ‘battlefield earth’

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 13:49:14 -0400

james monroes favorite movie is probably ‘battlefield earth’

crookedsin: It’s all fun and games until

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 19:47:42 -0400

crookedsin:

It’s all fun and games until

Random fact of the day

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 17:00:46 -0400

fluffmugger:

“Blood is thicker than water”, when used in the context of family over friends, is in fact a wildly incorrect bastardisation.

The true, full quote is “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” and refers to relationships forged by choice holding deeper meaning than those of mere biology.

‘ok im so conflicted because i want like good jedi alexander but also dashing renegade pilot...

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 16:58:33 -0400

‘ok im so conflicted because i want like good jedi alexander but also dashing renegade pilot alexander and i want jedi turned sith lord burr but also sophisticated sassy senator burr’

if she writes a star wars au im going to piss

40302010: Franz von Stuck - Lucifer

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 07:26:36 -0400

40302010:

Franz von Stuck - Lucifer

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Tue, 18 Jun 2013 07:22:31 -0400

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Tue, 18 Jun 2013 07:10:17 -0400

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Mon, 17 Jun 2013 17:00:46 -0400

nintendogs64: this will always be my favorite tweet even on my...

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 10:19:28 -0400

nintendogs64:

this will always be my favorite tweet even on my death bed I am 100% sure I will be thinking about this tweet

phocion:

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 21:30:34 -0400

phocion:

continuation of (x) The waiting room was comforting in a drab sort of way, concluded Aaron as he...

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 21:27:13 -0400

continuation of (x)

The waiting room was comforting in a drab sort of way, concluded Aaron as he waited for his name to be called. He fidgeted in his seat, straightened a pant leg, and looked at the clock. Four P.M., and he was just realizing that he hadn’t eaten lunch. The dark eyed man grabbed his stomach absentmindedly and tried to remember why he’d missed lunch. It was the practice; it was always the practice.

“You’re not just going to sit there and stare off into space, are you?” Alexander asked him, several months ago, when their unprofessional relationship was still a secret to everyone but themselves, and God, perhaps. The West Indian straightened his back, “Excuse me, Colonel, I am talking to you.”

“I heard you the first time,” the black eyed man shot back, loudly, slamming a book down so hard it brought Troup in from the other room.

“Then why don’t you do something,” Alexander’s blue eyes narrowed, angrily, and the fat-faced friend in the doorway glanced around quickly at the scene before him.

“What do you want, Bobby?”

The two men at their desks spoke in annoyed unison, their voices overlapping one another’s. Troup threw up his hands silently, sarcastically, and backed out of the room.

“This is ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous,” Aaron responded after their friend left, “If you have something to say to me, just say it, and quit with this childish petulance.” He reached behind him and shoved the book haphazardly onto a shelf, “And stop ordering me around.”

Alexander watched him for a moment and then spoke up.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Figure it out for yourself,” Aaron replied, standing up and checking his watch.

“You’re not thinking of leaving now, are you?” Alexander asked, his voice raising an octave in irritation. He looked down at the papers on his desk and shook his head. “We are not even close to being finished.”

“I don’t care. I can’t stay in this office with you anymore. I’m going for a walk.” The black eyed man grabbed his coat and threw it on. Unable to respond, the West Indian sat in angry silence as he watched his partner leave, scattering two papers in his wake.

That was only one example of how Aaron occasionally, through no fault of his own, he reassured himself, missed lunch. His grumbling stomach brought him back down to earth as he watched the other patrons in the waiting room attempt to ignore one another. Finally, his own name was called and he stood up to walk into the small office at the end of the hall.

——

“So begin with telling me why you decided to come here today,” Mary inquired, politely, her notebook poised on her knee and her pen bobbing slightly between her fingers. She was a serious woman, but, noticed Aaron, possessed an immense amount of nervous energy.

“Because you told me to come here,” Aaron tried not to smile.

“No, no,” the doctor responded, catching onto his game, “I didn’t ask ‘Why did you come here today?’. I asked ‘Why did you decide to come here today?’. The ball’s in your court, as they say.”

Aaron sat in amused silence and stared at the boring pattern on the carpet. Mary continued.

“No one made you come here. You wanted to. And I would like to know what changed your mind.”

The dark eyed man thought for a moment, inhaled deeply, and ran a single hand through his black hair. He knew the answer to the question, certainly, but whether or not to reveal himself to the woman in front of him, who seemed to know him inside out already—that was the dilemma. Noticing his stubborn silence, Mary pressed further.

“Why don’t you begin by telling me about yourself? That’s generally how I start things if my patient is uncomfortable.” She inclined her head to the right, her sharp, dark brown eyes taking him in. Only then did Aaron notice a small wedding band on her left hand.

“There’s not much to tell, really,” he lied, trying to keep his own situation private while attempting to discern hers, “My parents died when I was quiet young. They would have known more about me as a child. I don’t remember much.”

Mary nodded, looked down at her notebook and scribbled something. The black eyed man felt himself grow slightly agitated.

“What are you writing there? What did I say?”

“You decided to start out with your childhood. Some people, when asked about themselves, would start out with the present: interests, hobbies, relationships, careers. Some would start out with goals or dreams. You began with the past.”

Aaron furrowed his eyebrows. “So?”

“It must hold some significance for you. Especially with the death of your parents.”

Again, Aaron wanted to roll his eyes. He never liked the overly curious, particularly with regards to his own private thoughts and memories. The fact that there was an entire profession that dealt with the uncovering of sentiments that Aaron wished never to reveal made his gut churn.

“Well, yes. Naturally the death of one’s parents is a rather significant event.”

“Why be sardonic?”

The dark eyed man straightened himself up in his chair and leaned forward, “Please be direct with me, Madame. You wanted me to come here today because you think I am addicted to sex. Or that my lifestyle is unhealthy. I fail to see what any of this has to do with my past or my secrets.”

A small, infuriating smile played on the doctor’s lips. Aaron chewed the inside of his cheek as she spoke.

“Secrets? I never asked you to reveal any secrets, I simply wanted to know more about you so that I could help you.”

“Fine. Fine.” Aaron raised a hand, conceding, and closed his eyes to think. “My parents died when I was young. Within months of each other. Then my maternal grandparents.”

Mary nodded; offered neither pity nor judgment. She spoke up, flat, “That is exceptionally tragic, Aaron. What caused their deaths?”

“Illness.”

The doctor nodded again and narrowed here eyes. “So you were abandoned.”

“It wasn’t their fault.”

“I didn’t say it was their fault, merely that it happened. There doesn’t need to be blame. Some things defy explanation.”

The clock on the wall ticked on as a certain heavy quietness descended on the room. Aaron avoided the all-knowing gaze of the doctor in front of him, and tried to recall a time when he remembered the sound of his grandmother’s voice. There comes a point, the dark eyed man realized, when tragedy becomes so absurdly all-encompassing it begins to take on a dethatched, humorous air.

“We can face the issue directly, if that would make you feel more at ease,” Mary continued softly, putting her pen down. “Since this is largely a sexuality issue you can begin with that.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow and toyed nervously with the edge of his tie.

“There is no issue with my sexuality. It simply exists, as my own. I’m not a predator. I’m not harming anyone.”

“I will put it to you simply, then. Do you think you are too promiscuous?”

The black eyes closed, stayed shut for a moment too long, and then opened again. Aaron felt an oncoming headache and wished he’d never stepped foot into the office. Certainly he knew his lifestyle was an unhealthy one, but concluded that there were far worse way to spend a few hours’ time. Finally, he looked up and smiled.

“I like sex,” Aaron shrugged, let his hands fall into his lap again.

“When was the last time you had a relationship last more than a day?” Mary quipped back, a little too smugly. The sound of the ticking clock picked up again, as if to signify the definitiveness of the question and the way it made Aaron’s heart flutter uncomfortably. “Commitment, Aaron,” he heard her repeat, “that is my question here. You know what I am getting at.”

He sat mute for a moment more, tried to remember his relationships. Many of which, he realized with a sudden jolt of pain beginning in his fingertips, were significantly one-sided.

“My wife died ten years ago. That was the last time.”

The doctor tilted her head again and a single strand of mousey, grey-brown hair loosed itself from the messy bun. “So the last time you felt a significant connection with another human being, of similar age and emotional, intellectual maturity, was with your wife, ten years ago. I take it you were devastated at her death.”

“I was.” Aaron tried to sound bored; failed.

“And casual sex was comforting.”

“It is.”

“You know it won’t last forever, Aaron. I am sure you’ve heard this before.”

Aaron nodded, numb. Yes, he’d heard it before. From none other than himself. In his own mind. No one was brave enough to tell him to his face. Or, rather, no one cared enough.

“I plan on enjoying it while it lasts, however,” he continued, saving face. “I see nothing wrong with exploring my options.”

“Are the people you sleep with worthless?”

The black eyed man sat up straighter. How does one measure the worth of another human being? Was it in numbers? In cash? And if that was the case, who was the worthless one? The prostitute or the John?

Aaron grew sullen again. Noticing, Mary spoke out.

“You are trying to fulfill yourself with your promiscuity. This is not an uncommon thing, Aaron. But that doesn’t make it right.”

“I mean no disrespect, Doctor, but perhaps we could talk about other things.”

For a moment, Mary looked at him. Picking up her pen she jotted something down on her paper, and then nodded to herself.

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Sun, 16 Jun 2013 17:00:54 -0400