‘The Chain (Live From Webster Hall)’ by Ingrid MichaelsonThe sky looks pissed; the wind talks back. My bones are shifting in my skin, and you, my love, are gone.

‘The Chain (Live From Webster Hall)’ by Ingrid Michaelson
The sky looks pissed; the wind talks back. My bones are shifting in my skin, and you, my love, are gone.

‘Video’ by India.Arie is my new jam.

‘Video’ by India.Arie is my new jam.

‘Please Don’t Tell Her’ by Jason MrazBecause I’m crazy like the rest of us, but I’m crazier when I’m next to her.

‘Please Don’t Tell Her’ by Jason Mraz
Because I’m crazy like the rest of us, but I’m crazier when I’m next to her.

‘Headlights On The Highway’ by Ron PopeAnd I don’t need no secrets, I give up on lies. If it’s gonna rain, I’d rather know then be caught blind.

‘Headlights On The Highway’ by Ron Pope
And I don’t need no secrets, I give up on lies. If it’s gonna rain, I’d rather know then be caught blind.

‘Caught Up’ by Usher is my new jam.

‘Caught Up’ by Usher is my new jam.

‘You Belong To Me’ by Jason WadeA few words about your jam (optional)

‘You Belong To Me’ by Jason Wade
A few words about your jam (optional)

‘Sort Of’ by Ingrid MichaelsonMy love’s too big for you, my love.

‘Sort Of’ by Ingrid Michaelson
My love’s too big for you, my love.

‘Beatbox Harmonica’ by Yuri LaneA few words about your jam (optional)

‘Beatbox Harmonica’ by Yuri Lane
A few words about your jam (optional)

Recently, Jesse Eisenberg contributed a Shouts & Murmurs titled “Marv Albert Is My Therapist.” We thought it would be a fun idea if the two of them did a dramatic reading.

(source: The New Yorker)

‘When I Was Your Man’ by Bruno MarsCAN’T GET THIS SONG OUT OF MY HEAD

‘When I Was Your Man’ by Bruno Mars
CAN’T GET THIS SONG OUT OF MY HEAD

‘Valerie’ by Amy Winehousedancing in my underwear with my best friend while eating tetrazini

‘Valerie’ by Amy Winehouse
dancing in my underwear with my best friend while eating tetrazini

I want a love that’s like a contradiction.

I want it loud
      like Times Square on New Years 
      when there are so many people I can’t even hear
 
      you laugh in my ear. 

I want it quiet 
       like ruffling sheets and 
       lukewarm cups of coffee and 
       Sunday afternoon light streaming in the window.

I want it colorful 
       like Christmas lights shining on your face, 
       sitting next to 
             our tree.

I want it dark 
       like panic attacks and 
       broken plates and 
       insecurities and 
       just breathing in,
             breathing out.

I want it clean, 
       like fucking khakis and 
       rolling my eyes at you over game night at my parents’ house
       eating your second slice of pie.

I want it dirty 
       like rucked up skirts and 
       soaked panties and wet, slick and 
       no time for the bed so the kitchen tile will have to do.

I want it big and vast 
       like holding your hands as we finally see the sunrise       
       and the entire world waking up

I want it small 
       like our pinkies linked over the gearshift with only two hours until 
             home
       but I feel like I’m already there.