Glass, shells and buttons
This is not about who I am and what I do. It's about what I like, a way to try and save the treasures I encounter online.
- Teddy: I rented a house. It's amazing. It's right on the water, a little cottage, and there's deer, like, bambi deer, and singing birds, it's incredible. I found this secret little coffee place down the street from here and, oh, and I was thinking of getting a puppy. But you know, you have to be home with a puppy and I'm always here. So I went to the pound because I wanted to get it out of my system, you know, the puppy love. And I held all these incredibly sweet dogs and you would have been proud of me, Owen, I didn't take one home. I went and got a fish instead. And let me see, what else? Oh I got a bikini wax! Yeah I got a bikini, an actual wax, I hadn't gotten one of those since - remember when I tried to wax myself and -
- Owen: What is your prob-
- Teddy: You are my best friend!
- My best friend who I could tell everything to, and now you won't even look at me.
- Owen: 'Cause you said you loved me.
- I should be so bloody grateful that this has never happened to me.
Awesome awesome awesome
ballerinaforballers:fuckyeahtheoc:crashclashh:toonumb:fuckyeahtvpicspam:
Seth: I had sex with a girl! Summer, to be more specific.
Ryan: How was it?
Seth: I had sex.
(whispering)
Ryan: That bad?
Seth: No, not that bad it was just kind of weird.
Ryan: Weird?
Seth: Yeah, but not kinky weird. More like, awkward. But hey, you know what? It was my first time and she’s a more experienced woman, that’s to be expected. And I did make some faces in the middle that I wish that I could take back, but I can’t. And there’s also sort of a whiny noise that came out towards the end, that wasn’t my finest hour. And I sucked so bad. I was like a fish flopping around on dry land. Ryan, I was Nemo and I just wanted to go home.
The O.C.
1.19 - “The Heartbreak” (via ephee : justalittlebossy)
“Most women fight wars on two fronts, one for whatever the putative topic is and one simply for the right to speak, to have ideas, to be acknowledged to be in possession of facts and truths, to have value, to be a human being.”
“Men Who Explain Things” by Rebecca Solnit in the LA Times (via Notes from the Patriarchy) (via resilienttendencies) (via kerrielisabeth)
O RLY?
(via sadydoyle)
sadydoyle:robot-heart:clingtomymouth:-unleashthefuckingbats:rodkimble:the-whole-forever:cuntlery:dizzymecrazy
always reblog
I’m not a meme person, but I believe this wolf to be quoting THE TIGER BEATDOWN NATIONAL ANTHEM???
Why You Should Never Marry A Poet by Heather Bell
Think about it - the way that credit cards, bougainvillea,
vacations, dictionaries, the road on the way to work will
all never be enough. The poet wishes
with her deepest bones
and writes that she wishes
she would have killed you
in the supermarket. She wonders why
she ever loved you in song.
She publishes book after book. Each line detailing
how your hair is ugly and monstrous in the morning. And how,
like moss, you cling to her
so piteously.
But you marry her anyway.
and she looks like a roar of snow
in white. You figure she will read a poem about you
that day in front of everyone: her throat
is, after all, a stamen
or matchstick.
But she is silent, says only the I DO’s
and a few Bible verses.
The poet loves with a most violent
heart. What you have not known-
she has wanted to tell you the truth
all of these years,
but grew silent as an old lover does
at eighty. There is no way to say
how one loves the ache of your cracked lips,
the heavy belly of your tongue, the years she spent
feeling not loved,
but still loving. Think about it-
the poet is fearful of others knowing and finding your mouth.
She is frightened of you -
realizing you could have been
loved better or harder
or with real words.
“What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness, and say, ‘This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you, all in the same sequence. The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned and you with it, dust of the dust!’ Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon? Or would you answer, ‘Never have I heard anything more divine?”
Friedrich Nietzsche
(via desirenoir) (via tobia) (via desolates) (via cosmicforest) (via rhea137) (via anosognosia) (via garconniere)
I just almost cried when I heard myself thinking: ‘I would like that!’ God, everything once again; all those lovely people, wonderful experiences, and then to see if maybe I would understand more after countless times of doing it. I tend to forget how much I love my life.
oh, fucking swoon, the inside of dfw’s copy of don delillo’s players.
(ut austin got all of his stuff). omg can i go visit this instead of going to panels at sxsw?!!?!
- Willow: OK, say that I help, and you start a conversation, it goes great, you like Buffy, she likes you, you spend time together, feelings grow deeper, and one day, without even realizing it, you find you're in love. Time stops, and it feels like the whole world is made for you two, and you two alone, until the day one of you leaves and rips the still-beating heart from the other, who's now a broken, hollow mockery of the human condition.
- Riley: Yep, that's the plan.
Coming & Telling & Crying
This is Tumblr, so obviously all of you have already heard about Meaghan and Melissa’s wonderful project Coming & Crying, and have already donated money or plan to do that in the following 30 hours (because 30 hours are all that are left to help this happen. DO IT DO IT).
It is late people, and to be quite honest I don’t feel like making too much of a slick story out of this, I just needed to say: these girls are hot.
That is to say, hot in the way that when we were kids, we’d hide stuff in the living room and let someone search while we yelled: ‘warmer! warmer! oh no, cold cold cold cold! yeaah warmer! warmer, warmer.. hot hot hot!’ and in this metaphor Meaghan and Melissa are the birthday girls looking for their present and the present is The Truth About Life and How We Should Live It, and I am one of the kids who’s yelling ‘HOT HOT’, and, if you are touched and amazed by the following quotes, you probably are as well.
Meagan: ‘A lot of our philosophy re: the book is grounded in the belief that storytelling eradicates shame and fosters compassion (to risk sounding utterly newnice), and that we dare each other on, so to speak, support each other, so that things have historically been not-so-easy to talk about, don’t hold so much discursive power, and can be seen more as they are— tough, wonderful, funny, sweet, scared— etc.’
Matthew Gallaway: ‘To read others’ words and stories, I think, is one of the best ways we can not only develop our own language, but also to understand why we should recognize the fundamental humanity of another person or group of people; in Rorty’s view, the novel has been one of the great means by which our society has learned both to empathize with those who in the past would have been considered ‘outsiders’ (or even less than human) for whatever reason (gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity the most obvious), but also to understand humanity’s capacity for cruelty to one another (Nabokov and Orwell are two examples of this kind of writer). So in short, yes, I think reading (and respecting) the work of others (whether it’s a novel or an essay or a lolcat tumblr post) is absolutely essential in terms of ‘opening’ myself up to the viewpoint of others, and perhaps — as a second step — to incorporate their story/vocabulary into my own.’
(Read more interviews&background here.)
Now this is what I talk about when I say: I need to write this and that book. This is why I have been sharing my life online all these years, with very extreme highs (or, as some people say, lows) such as when I uploaded a list of all the people I have ever crushed on, marked with ‘kiss’ ‘sex’ ‘love’ and ‘duration’ (last week) or when I described in full detail a dream in which I had sex with my ex-boyfriend for the first time (six years ago). This is why I write when I’m upset, alone, happy or bored - and this is why I write not for myself, but for you, and why I hope that you read it: because I want to read what you have to say, anytime.
fuckyeahpeterpan:pyrrhosrepublic:
I can “clearly and distinctly perceive” that René Descartes looks like Captain Hook.
‘If an alien was looking down on us and inspecting our language they would see that the worst thing we do on this planet is we torture, we kill, we abuse, we harm people, we’re cruel, and those are the things of which we should be ashamed. Amongst the best things we do, is we breed children, we raise them and we make love to each other, we adore each other, we are affectionate and fond of each other, those are the good things we do. And they would say “How odd, that the language for the awful things is used casually all the time.” “Oh, the traffic was agony, it was hell, it was cruel”; “Oh it was torture, waiting in line.” We use words like torture! That’s the worst word. And yet, if we use the f-word, which is the word for generating our species, for showing physical affection one to another, then we’re taken off and accused of being wicked and irresponsible and a bad influence to children.
