procrastination

i finished reading this book today, as i was falling asleep. it was extremely mundane, but i liked the super random ending. 

it is home, but it is all clutter

"my parents are making us hotpot" she says. there is a twinge of jealousy even though I don't want hotpot. "i thought you were dating a girl," the other one says. 

this is the feeling of having something that nobody wants. they walk out into the night. the night is lukewarm at best. 

we live in a world full of maniacal chinese-american authors that speak in a loud monotone to other chinese-american authors. 

a vague opening sentence, sensitive descriptions of the snow, name drop someone no one's ever heard of, and imply you know a thing or two about pain, but use the image of a flower to describe it. this is the recipe for an avant-garde piece of writing. the writer is probably starved out of his mind after a long day of sitting at the computer typing dumb words on a bulletin board to 83 students. 

social media is destroying my productivity

hellopoetry words used