Awesome things are awesome
Jul. 20th, 2009 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityofoneTeeny tiny SPN S5 spoiler that is just about the awesomest thing ever
The only thing more awesome than that spoiler is (of course) Misha Collins. Who, as fandom already knows, between interning at the White House and building his own house and learning Tibetan throat singing and being a hotass on TV and assembling an army of minions, has published poetry. Which, BECAUSE SHE HAS SUPERPOWERS BEYOND THAT OF MORTAL WOMEN,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
siriaeve found in about four seconds. (She's all like, "Google is your friend, Trin!" At which point I had to point out the sad truth: "No, Google is your friend; it is my somewhat ornery acquaintance.") Anyway...this may turn out to be old news, but I haven't seen them anywhere, so I present for your reading pleasure:
Old Bones
This morning
The smell of bacon
Brought me downstairs
But before I reached
The open kitchen door
A voice stopped me
My mother telling
Her old, arthritic dog,
“I know sweetness
You’ve been carrying those bones
For a long time.”
I leaned unseen
On the mildewed
Window sill
Watching her
Sip coffee
Fry Bacon
Her old dog
Pressing at her knee.
Baby Pants
This morning I drive across town for a friend
To Justin’s house on a Saturday at 9.
His wife yells from under wet hair
Belt unbuckled
“Justin!”
He’s down in the office
And I sit—collapse on the new couch
Custom made, brown and squarer than a couch should be.
Justin’s baby produces baby pants for my inspection.
I’m impressed, he can find his own pants now.
Can’t put them on, but knows
They go
On his baby legs.
And there I am
With my friend’s family
On a weekend morning.
The mother holds an envelope
In her teeth
Hoists and struggles
To pant her boy.
I’m slouching and hot in my vest
My blue, down vest.
Thinking today was colder than it is.
Forgetting that fall in California
Is like summer back home.
Plastic diapers pack the thighs of tiny corduroys
The smell of Cheerios bloated and floating in milk
What have I missed?
***
I love him so much I might actually pass out.
In other news, my mom got a puppy:
His name is Morrissey. He's half Jack Russell, half Fox Terrier, and the tiniest, cutest little thing ever. And then, sadly, he broke his toe:
...which somehow, impossibly, made him even CUTER.
I might die of puppy, if Misha Collins hadn't already killed me.
So yes, there is a lot of awesome in the air today, the only exceptions being 1) the weather, and 2) my total unpreparedness for Comic-Con. I have not arranged meet-ups or planned anything or even done my laundry. I FAIL. And so, I shall flail! If I flap my arms enough, maybe everything will magically ready itself?
In conclusion, MISHA COLLINS.
The only thing more awesome than that spoiler is (of course) Misha Collins. Who, as fandom already knows, between interning at the White House and building his own house and learning Tibetan throat singing and being a hotass on TV and assembling an army of minions, has published poetry. Which, BECAUSE SHE HAS SUPERPOWERS BEYOND THAT OF MORTAL WOMEN,
siriaeve found in about four seconds. (She's all like, "Google is your friend, Trin!" At which point I had to point out the sad truth: "No, Google is your friend; it is my somewhat ornery acquaintance.") Anyway...this may turn out to be old news, but I haven't seen them anywhere, so I present for your reading pleasure:Old Bones
This morning
The smell of bacon
Brought me downstairs
But before I reached
The open kitchen door
A voice stopped me
My mother telling
Her old, arthritic dog,
“I know sweetness
You’ve been carrying those bones
For a long time.”
I leaned unseen
On the mildewed
Window sill
Watching her
Sip coffee
Fry Bacon
Her old dog
Pressing at her knee.
Baby Pants
This morning I drive across town for a friend
To Justin’s house on a Saturday at 9.
His wife yells from under wet hair
Belt unbuckled
“Justin!”
He’s down in the office
And I sit—collapse on the new couch
Custom made, brown and squarer than a couch should be.
Justin’s baby produces baby pants for my inspection.
I’m impressed, he can find his own pants now.
Can’t put them on, but knows
They go
On his baby legs.
And there I am
With my friend’s family
On a weekend morning.
The mother holds an envelope
In her teeth
Hoists and struggles
To pant her boy.
I’m slouching and hot in my vest
My blue, down vest.
Thinking today was colder than it is.
Forgetting that fall in California
Is like summer back home.
Plastic diapers pack the thighs of tiny corduroys
The smell of Cheerios bloated and floating in milk
What have I missed?
***
I love him so much I might actually pass out.
In other news, my mom got a puppy:
His name is Morrissey. He's half Jack Russell, half Fox Terrier, and the tiniest, cutest little thing ever. And then, sadly, he broke his toe:
...which somehow, impossibly, made him even CUTER.
I might die of puppy, if Misha Collins hadn't already killed me.
So yes, there is a lot of awesome in the air today, the only exceptions being 1) the weather, and 2) my total unpreparedness for Comic-Con. I have not arranged meet-ups or planned anything or even done my laundry. I FAIL. And so, I shall flail! If I flap my arms enough, maybe everything will magically ready itself?
In conclusion, MISHA COLLINS.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 12:48 am (UTC)MY BRAIN CANNOT HANDLE THIS.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:00 am (UTC)Puppy!Morrissey: What do you want to do today, Misha?
Misha: Same thing we do every day, puppy! MAKE FANGIRLS' BRAINS EXPLODE.
And then they did.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:08 am (UTC)There is not much that I would put past Misha, for that matter.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:11 am (UTC)And I may actually get to see him on Sunday. I am trying not to think about it too much, because if I did...cue passing out, dying, etc. *bites nails*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:21 am (UTC)And I may actually get to see him on Sunday.
I would probably just die. Like, right there. But I would die happy, and that's the important thing.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 12:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:02 am (UTC)We are all part of Misha's masterplan somehow. Will we figure it out in time? Do we care?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 12:59 am (UTC)(And good lord, FOND POEMS ABOUT OLD DOGS. Be still my everything!)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:08 am (UTC)That's all I've got. Pretty consistently.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:10 am (UTC)*incoherence! utter, complete, total incoherence!*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:00 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:09 am (UTC)Think about it!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:16 am (UTC)A: 42.
YES I WOULD LIKE 42 OF HIM, THANK YOU FOR ASKING.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 06:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 01:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 02:16 am (UTC)*contented sigh* Thanks.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 03:56 am (UTC)Are we sure this guy wasn't grown in a lab somewhere?
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 10:36 am (UTC)I didn't know about the Misha poetry either...
Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 03:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 03:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 06:01 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-21 06:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-27 10:03 am (UTC)Also, awwww, cute puppy! :)
Am trying desperately not to read your new post with spoilers from Comic-Con. *sings lalalalala*