There's something wrong with Cupid's aim and I think it's because he might have a drinking problem. He stumbles around on wobbly chubby legs and flies haphazardly, shooting crooked arrows in willy-nilly directions with no thought of the target. A jovial fool with all the dangerous powers of the heart, he makes callous matchmaking jokes and pairs inconsistently. Which doesn't really help us...a broken arrow intended for someone else pierces a heart and all one can do is watch helplessly waiting for its sting to fade. Fuck, c'mon Cupid! Get it together! Don't you know the first step is admitting you have a problem?
Current enamored obsessions: Francisco the Man's folky garage shoegaze, Lola's dreamy murky creations and a certain fella I just can't stop thinking about.