Hint: Use 'j' and 'k' keys
to move up and down

drink some of this

allegorically (and in a sense, alchemically), the
buttresses did nothing but wish they were
ceilings. in unison they denounced their
'down to earth' attributes, with hopes of being
exonerated like the roof seemed to be.
futilely utilizing the craftsman's
grooves to catch the rain, as it shot from the
heavens and was trampled under hooves.
"I AM NOT WHAT I AM!" those props shouted in
jest, and a poor jest at that. the man in
khaki slacks was taken aback to hear the
lovely struts speak. he spat, "where are your
manners? be grateful for your place and do
not attempt to assuage the importance of your duty.
or have you forgotten your function too?"
"performing a perfunctory purpose as this,"
quipped the buttresses, "is raw shit!"
riddled with self effacement, they would not be
saved from their depression. the man's pride
trounced the desire to give unheeded advice.
underneath the ego, all things are allowed to feel
virtually worthless. even though they aren't.
"whither wander you? you sloven spirits with
xenolithic habits and habitats? don't
you see what use you have in this life? are you a
zebra or just a horse with stripes?"
By Andre Bardeau
daviddelruelle:

In the presence of all be nothing  (Artwork for a book project to come)

daviddelruelle:

In the presence of all be nothing  (Artwork for a book project to come)

(via oxane)

towritelesbiansonherarms:

You should never underestimate the predictability of stupidity.

seriously one of the best films ever made

(Source: rickgrimeshappens)

Martyrs of the revolution

(Source: ston-henge, via leilukin)

fuckyeah1990s:

Blink-182 - Apple Shampoo

I always turn to this song and other songs off “Dude Ranch” when im depressed over a girl. There are some really good songs on this album.

Dude Ranch was legit

(Source: blue-moon-carol, via fuckyeah1990s)

(Source: tasekai, via ny-quil)

gutsanduppercuts:

Yep, that’s Bruce Lee.

gutsanduppercuts:

Yep, that’s Bruce Lee.

(via towritelesbiansonherarms)

grimabaddon:

my favorite Gundam of all time. The Gundam DeathScythe

grimabaddon:

my favorite Gundam of all time. The Gundam DeathScythe

(Source: atomskk, via wookieeoftheyear)

Have you ever been so displaced by one of your senses that you are rendered completely static in time and space as you cling to a memory like it was your own mother and it was the first day of school? It is a terrible thing to be sure, to be so helpless and transformed by regret, transformed into a statue where your eyes are pure focus but focused on pain.

sissy-boy-slap-party:

Boogie Nights (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1997)

(via shmemson)

boomerstarkiller67:

Philippe Druillet Artwork

(via dkraus00)

Always feeling tired, smiling when required
Write another year off and kindly resign

(Source: ascendingreality, via globochem)

theneedledrop:

this future islands live performance is just ruling my world at the moment…

Everything about this is rad

"…I think we are well-advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were."
- Joan Didion (via aestheticintrovert)

(Source: sea-change, via aestheticintrovert)

"New York, is there still room for me there?
I’ve tried this whole separation thing
and it isn’t working for me.
Whose bleeding lips have you been kissing?
Never mind, that doesn’t matter,
I’ve slept in new beds too.
I’ve written this to you in a dream before,
and you forgave me.
Some part of you must remember.
Baby, tell me no one else’s hands felt right
after I stopped holding yours.
Everyone is so tired of hearing about love,
and the poets are tired of writing about it,
but it’s always right here,
aching and beautiful.
Someone told me Brooklyn is starting to sing again, and
I’d like to hear her from where you’re standing.
I understand if you don’t want to talk to me right now.
I’ll stand in the middle of the Atlantic
until you change your mind.
I don’t care about all the sharp elbows
and sad people.
I think me and you are good together,
and it isn’t just because I’m bad
with everybody else.
New York, all my love letters are about you
anyways,
and I think it’s time you start writing back."