September 2009
oiseau part three
likelava:
the first day i saw him, i didn’t actually see him. i caught his reflection in puddles, neglected to notice the rain from which they fell from. it was the skin i first saw, cinnamon sheets that swept everyone else inside their wrinkles. i saw hair made of feathers, it fell on his cheek bones where freckles were spread out like stale crumbs along the shore of his eyes. you could feel him...
oiseau part two
likelava:
She knew my game even when I broke all of its rules. We were polar opposites that collided, high off a magnetic potential that held as much power to coast its electricity between us as it did to cave in and leave us stranded. And I remember the way her hair fell like a trap at her ribs, made of knots and twine that would start to curl when she forgot to wash it. It would turn soft in the...
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“I must go in, the fog is rising.”
– Emily Dickinson’s last words—1886 (via colorsofcorruption)
August 2009
Alyssa: ...but seriously, why is it me?
Hayley: Because of the look on its face. It's very...regal. Seen Chris's? I don't know why, but he is definately a butterscotch bunny.
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This is beautiful. →
(via wherethelightis)
Musical collaboration-by-video. 20 participants, a wonderful mesh of sound and speech.
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'saw death on a sunny snow'
likelava:
i put all of my thoughts in notebooks, secrets falling to their knees in ink. i’m afraid to put them here sometimes. afraid the things that hurt me most will become instantly famous for fifteen minutes. afraid the things that amplify anything i’ve ever felt, will be drained of their light and shrink into some portable flash. it’s like breaking down these walls, ripping apart these...
Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, and...
basementlily:
hbakes:
caitlinrose:
dareyoutomove:
littlejames:
“but that is because our minds are finite, whereas the Creator’s mind is infinite.”
“How can we have any security or plan anything if everything changes all the time?”
Oh, it was important, all right.
Individuality is something securely possessed within each of us as our unique “essence”.
”My guess is it’s still hanging out...
Dear Klonopin,
What dreams/sleepy hallucinations will you bring me tonight? Tomorrow I have three hours of Drawing to start my day with, so if it’s weird, that’s okay.
PS: Please include the following, if possible: Christian Kane.
Thanks.
Sincerely,
Hayley
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Reblog if you're straight and you support gay...
sleepingwideawake:
thatjeffreykid:
hellomagenta:
trendsandmakebelieve:
mauria:
johnnyalwaysknows:
lalalaura:
brittistoolegit:
siljetstar:
(via thomasmatthiewdelonge)
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I Hate Drake (a real childhood diary recitation) →
Will Nolan reads from his childhood diary on stage during a comedy show. True bullying. True, childhood profanity. Video with illlustrations and photographs. Excruciatingly funny.
“You need to tell the boy who stole your shoes and tied you to a tree that he made you angry. Call him. It will make you feel better. It’s time for dinner.”
6 tags
“There are people who barely feel poetry, and they are generally dedicated to...”
– -Jorge Luis Borges, in his 1977 lecture entitled “Poetry”
Confirmed by personal experience.
“I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I...”
– –-Kafka, in a letter to Ottla, his sister
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“Writing sustains me. But wouldn’t it be more accurate to say that it sustains...”
– –-Kafka,in a letter to Max Brod, July 5, 1922
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“Human nature, essentially changeable, as unstable as the dust, can endure no...”
– –-Franz Kafka, “The Great Wall of China”
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“We live as if the world were as it should be to show it what it can be.”
– Guess.
Give up? It’s Angel, from Joss Whedon’s Angel. I fucking love this quote.
“To achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan, and not quite enough...”
– Leonard Bernstein (via colorsofcorruption)
Story of my life, except for the ‘plan’ part.
“What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a...”
– Crowfoot (via colorsofcorruption)
Wilson: Even I don’t like you.
House: You know, words can hurt!
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Sister Eucharist: I need to talk with you, Dr. House. Sister Augustine believes in things that aren’t real.
House: I thought that was a job requirement for you people.
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Foreman: He’s really talking to a patient?
Chase: I don’t know who I am anymore.
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“I’m getting out of here. I’m going to be a real writer. I take only some books,...”
– Madness - Marya Hornbacher (via purveyorofnonsense)
Yay, me!
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It Might Get Loud: a history of the electric... →
…from the point of view of Jack White, The Edge, and Jimmy Paige.
5 tags
Poems for Poets
colorsofcorruption:
smut-to-go:
lately, a few people on tumblr have said that they want to know more about me. well, here is something. i won 2nd in some state (north carolina) poet laureate poetry contest for this poem. i wrote it when i was fourteen. i’m sixteen now. it’s a kinda tribute to my favorite female singer, karen dalton, who i never thought got enough credit.
to karen dalton
...
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“Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our...”
– Eskimo Proverb (via thingsgohazy)
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