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i love this tweet i love it so much

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Turns out writing a murder mystery is really fun + I am playing toys + enjoying myself

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Bastille was right. How am I gonna be an optimist about this. Also right about eh eho eho.

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baba, tbh, and soweli are the same aminal I think

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shorthands for dumbassery that i have grown to love deeply

"how dare you say we piss on the poor" in response to someone misinterpreting your post

"_ isnt gonna fuck you" for suck up behavior

"woah. should we tell everyone? should we throw a party?" for who the fuck cares

"and what if the world was made of pudding" for when would this ever matter.

"and sharks are smooth both ways" for a group of people heatedly arguing with 1 guy who is fucking with them all

".. but its about a witch in the alps finding her lost cat" for someone trying to sanitize something to the point of absurdity

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Please do not dislike this skull.

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i bet there were guys in the 1800s who were super fucking Reddit about everything, but no one had the right word yet for why those guys were so annoying. so they just had to wonder

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that thing where you're attracted to someone not in a platonic or romantic or sexual way, but in an 'i want to read about their exploits' kind of way

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Me: You know how when you were a kid and you’d wish that you’d get sick or injured in a way that would justify why you didn’t live up to your potential?

Everybody, apparently: No?

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I've figured out þe lyrics I'll be using for þis song, so I can now move on to writing þe melody and þen þe (oh god) instrumentation

As a consequence of þe slow pace I want þe song to take and þe lengþ of þe lyrics I wrote, þis song is gonna end up being about eight minutes long. jfc. Maybe I'll cut it down, maybe I won't. who's to say. Anyway, here, have þe lyrics:

Feedback is always welcomed!

Are my ears betraying me? It sounds like “me” becoming “us”. It sounds like you returning home. You say that you’re… Odysseus?

Pardon, þough, my newfound age; My eyes have put us in a bind. I cannot tell if you speak true – You see, of late, I find I’m blind.

Twenty years of waiting – My eyes have grown too weak After all of þis time, So prove to me it’s you, my love. Prove to me it’s you, my love.

Twenty years of waiting – Of trials and so much pain. I need you to come close And prove to me it’s you, my love. Prove to me it’s you, my love.

Let my hands remember you: Your strengþ þat built our walls and home, Your crown þat þought of plots and schemes, Your legs wiþ which you were forced to roam.

Let þese hands, grown frail and weak, Run þrough your hair, once lush and þick And know þat you are truly he, For I’m þe one you cannot trick.

Twenty years of waiting – My eyes have grown too weak After all of þis time, So prove to me it’s you, my love. Prove to me it’s you, my love. Twenty years of waiting – Of trials and so much pain. I need you to come close And prove to me it’s you, my love. Prove to me it’s you, my love.

Don’t speak or else I will fail to conclude Wheþer or not you are he whom you claim to be. But if it is true, þen would you please move our bed?

I can feel you tensing. I can feel your rage. Because I must seem to have forgotten –  In my age – Þat you carved our bed from a tree.

Only my husband would know, Only my love would get mad, When all þat I asked was to  Move our bed!

Twenty years of waiting – My eyes have grown so weak After all of þis time, You’ve shown me þat it’s you, my love. Shown me þat it’s you, my love.

Twenty years of waiting – Of trials and too much pain. I needed you to come close, And now I know you’re here, my love. Praise þe gods, you’re here, my love.

Odysseus…

Trying desperately to get out of my songwriting rut (tbh just a generally writing rut), and Epic: The Musical has inspired me wiþ an idea þat’s finally gotten me to put pen to paper

So, þe Odyssey, right? A ten-year voyage back to his home, Ithaca, where his wife Penelope is. And before þat, þe Trojan War, an immense, ten-year affair. It’s unclear how þe timeline of þeir lives go (at least, I couldn’t find very clear sources, not þat it much matters), but if Odysseus was 30/40 when he left, and Penelope was þe same age, þen she’d be 50/60 when he returned. And þat aging is þe crux of my concept:

What if Penelope was blind when Odysseus returned?

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yes we all know about medieval jesters waging psychological warfare in times of combat, but wait there’s more!

at the beginning of battles they would ride in on horseback, juggling swords or lances, and taunt & bait  the opposition. soldiers would get so angry they would break rank & weaken formations just to try to kill the fool

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Only 2 875 years until Tsan-Chan is in power!

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father how i've longed to see you!

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i had dream you were a plum instead of a fish and you were arguing with a grape

any grapes out there looking to start some shit?