Wednesday, January 16, 2013

F**k Yeah, A Book

My crush on them is f***ing ridiculous. Now I say "them" but when I was an avid stocker slash reader of the silly little crispy blog, i assumed it was one voice. One handsome stalion that would some day respond to my fan mails and we'd marry happily ever after to make five to seven strong eyebrowed children. My crush is f***ing ridiculous, I dropped a click or three on amazon the second I came back to them, or they came back to me. My heart was broken for a year or so. It was as if they'd hit it and quit it. Through great love affair they stopped blogging on me. It was stupid how crispy their rhymes were. It was stupid how much I crush them. I thought they'd disappeared since that Nov 2011 post. But it was only to drop something big on me, something to hold me over the nights I question deleting the essence of cinched. A place to bury my nose when it's feeling wide or shiny, and like it doesn't belong here or there, or anywhere #hashbag is required. This place has made my kindle softer than it's Smythson dress, my coffee table bigger than it's Minotti, and my mouth melt the way Bebel's does on a hungry Milanese night.  Fuck Yeah Menswear, the book.
All this time they were working on a mixed tape, now sold at stores