Amity Affliction at House of Blues tonight, and the outfit argument started the second the tickets landed. Nothing in this pile is surviving the pit unscathed — least of all me. Tell me which one you'd pull out for me.
Amity Affliction at House of Blues tonight, and the outfit argument started the second the tickets landed. Nothing in this pile is surviving the pit unscathed — least of all me. Tell me which one you'd pull out for me.
Halloween is packed away and the desk is back in business. Today's draft is the kind that doesn't let you finish until I say so — and I'm in no hurry. Tell me you'd survive a read-through.
Six miles done and I still had the whole park to myself — just me, the streetlamps, and a body that refuses to quit. The cold lost, obviously. Tell me you'd keep up.
Two hours of Shakespeare's worst men and I related to every single one. Iago talked people into ruining themselves without ever raising his voice — that's the craft I respect. Tell me which devil is your favorite.
Halloween is officially over and I'm on the living room floor with the wreckage — one stolen sweater, nothing else worth mentioning, and a candy haul I have zero intention of sharing. The jack-o'-lantern is wilting and I am not. Tell me which piece you'd beg me for.
Walking home through the last hour of Halloween with one stolen candy left in my pocket and a halo that fooled everyone. Somebody actually called me an angel tonight. Tell me you'd walk me home.
The horns won the argument, and City Hall Plaza turns into one big Halloween party tonight. I still haven't settled what goes under this skirt — tell me what you'd pick for me.
The Green Line is shut down all weekend and my Halloween route just became a three-bus odyssey. One boot on, zero plan, costume held together with stubbornness. Tell me you'd ride the whole way out with me.
Halloween gave me two nights this year and I still can't pick between the pile on my floor. Nekrogoblikon tonight means horns are officially in contention. Tell me which version of me you'd follow into the pit.
John Summit doesn't go on for hours yet and I've been awake since midnight arguing with myself about a ticket. The pre-show stretching has already turned into its own event. Tell me you'd still have energy left by doors.