Male , 31-35
What came first, the chicken or the dickhead?
I'm an avid author and amateur but enthusiastic photographer in northern Michigan.
Last Seen Now
Member Since Jan 11, 2013
- a little Faroese
Vices Smoking, drinking, rousing rabble.
Special day 4-18
Music Indie, Folk Rock
Local Time May 4th, 12:16 PM
Profile Whiteboard Recent Activity 42 Stories 44 Experiences 291 Friends 14 Photos 4 Confessions 201 Questions Trophies
MisterManners has shared 9 Mature Experiences
Goodbye, Cruel World. The green packet opens with the sound of paper ripping. I tear it right across the Kool-Aid man's stupid smile. Bringing the small pouch to my face, I inhale the scent, coughing a little as the lime-s… [more]
Oh, Josie. I can recall my favorite moment with you so clearly despite the fact that it was over a decade ago. The Autumn chill and all the leaves in the streets. Some of of them looked like hearts, so we took p… [more]
A Heat Rash In The Shape Of The Show-me State -- Los Campesinos! She'd a bruise so black they watched it fade through the full spectrum of colors. They kept it like a pet; a private joke they told no others. And how the tissue repaired, and how it turne… [more]
I would like the edit button back. Also, avatars are now too small. Also, lots of the ones I upload are centered incorrectly. … [more]
A Riot of TulipsFor the past couple months I've been really productive and trying all kinds of new ideas out, artistically. I've got several projects planned. The trouble is, I never know whether I am genuinely inspired, or if I'm in a manic phase. I've ridden this train my whole life. A few months or normality, a few months of mania. Things which seem like a great idea now may turn out to be ridiculous plans I came up with in the throes of one of my phases. A few Springs ago I decided to take up gardening. I planted tulips, and eventually realized, upon waking from my manic state and realizing that my yard was now a mass of rioting tulips, that I really had no interest in gardening at all. I genuinely hope… [more]
Oh, EmmaI watched her at the edge of the lake, rocked back onto the balls of her feet and resting her chest against her knees. She had just come out of the water and was making a little pattern of some sort in the sand with her finger, the sunlight making the droplets all over her back and shoulders look like tiny, glittering stars. I had loved her since the 9th grade, always the close friend but never able to pronounce my adoration in the way that I wanted. Now I was in my early twenties and not and inch closer to telling her how I felt. The shining stars all over her body in that moment seemed apt -- she may as well have been in the sky, as far above me as I had always considered her. She belonged… [more]