Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you’ve never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash you pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It’s an unpredictable life.
But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?
This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind.
If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.
My exact reaction to this:
And in chemistry class I was talking to my friend, Jack, about a gay pride festival I went to. My teacher, stupid nosy bitch, decides she wants to join in on the conversation. She asks me what I’m talking about so I turned around and her reaction was to make a noise of utter disgust. She asked me to go to the main office and get a different shirt. But being the rebel that I am, I told her very politely “no, if you don’t like it you don’t have to look at it. It’s my shirt, not yours, and there’s nothing wrong with it.” She told me again that I needed to change my shirt. I said again that I wasn’t and she told me she would have to send me to my administrator for direct disrespect. So I put on a big smile and packed my stuff up while she wrote the discipline report up.
But the thing that made me so happy that I didn’t give in and change was that as I was walking out the door a girl in my class stood up and started to walk with me. My teacher was kinda pissed and told her that she would get a write up if she didn’t sit down. And this girl, she is my fucking hero. She says: “Write me up then. It’s one more story that I can go home and tell my mothers. And I’m sure my girlfriend would love to hear it, too.” Then she smiled and walked out. I just felt the need to share what happened today with my lovely followers.
- Chord portrays Sam Evans (affectionately nicknamed ‘Sammy’ by his younger siblings.)
- wears a lot of plaid/flannel/hunting-style clothing
- has questionable taste in music
- Tanya Clarke plays his mother, Mary Evans.
- John Schneider: ….. apparently, Mr. Evans does not yet have a first name.
- has incredibly floppy hair
- Quite a bit of a dork, and adorably nerdy
- Last season, his dad “transferred” to Lima for work; in the Season 3 opener, it was mentioned that his dad “transferred” again over the summer
- for the majority of the second half of Season 2, he was living in a motel
Official Conclusion: Sam Evans is a Winchester.
Omg, impeccable logic.
- Complete inability to have a long-term relationship with a woman.
- First girlfriend was a monster.
- Helps raise his siblings.
- “My dad always said there’re two ways to get a woman to love you: take her hunting, and rock and roll.” (Tell me you can’t hear that in Dean Winchester’s voice.)
- Constantly “mistaken” for gay.
And he even has Dean’s impressive blowjob lips. Cannot unsee.