01001000100:

maureensadoll:

1966, George’s first trip to India

Hell yeah!!

Unbelievers by Vampire Weekend

nevver:

Might as well

I want to find a man with a big beard who isn’t intimidated by my fierceness.

(via mermaidg0ddess)

moontempleuniverse:

macro w lines of chat from paul rizza

Our love of each other was like two long shadows kissing without hope of reality.” ― Anaïs Nin

humansofnewyork:

“What’s your greatest struggle right now?”
“Fear of my writing. Sharing my writing, in particular.”
“Will you email me something you wrote tonight?”

---

“Less Fear” By Sade Johnson 

America take rest
I was born No poet
Born laces to television archaic computer lemming games
Walmart target home depot banks 

Big man take rest
I was born No lover
Born sage-less wise cracker
Abandoned lot mower for petrified native broken horn blowers

Savage take rest
I was born No tin man tight vested slave author
Born on No Puritanical pilgrimage not Lord wrought No Kings vestige 

Youth take rest
I was born a silver-tongued tight fisted counter daughter
Fire starting ageist hippy
Empty gun waving barbiturate sipping
Anti- nun

I take rest
I was born No fool

When I was in my 20s, I had this big plan to go down to El Salvador and write about the war. Never mind that I had never written anything and didn’t speak Spanish. I ran into the father of a friend of mine, and told him about my plan. I kind of expected him to shoot me down but he didn’t. Instead, he thought about it a bit, then said, ‘Well, if that’s your dream, you’ve got to do it. Because you know who you’re going to blame if you don’t, right?’
“I thought about this, and was pretty sure I knew where he was going. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’ll blame myself.’
“‘Bullshit!’ he said. ‘You’ll blame your wife and kids, when you get them.”
“Somehow this has stayed with me all of these years; this idea that, one reason to try and do the things you want to do (especially artistically) is that, if you don’t at least try, you’ll be discontent, and may take this discontent out on those closest to you. Or, to put it more positively: If you at least try to do the things that excite you, it will make you a more expansive and present person — you’ll feel, at the end of your life, that at least you took the shot.

nevver:

Rumi

(via aestivalism)

Don’t be afraid to be confused. Try to remain permanently confused. Anything is possible. Stay open, forever, so open it hurts, and then open up some more, until the day you die, world without end, amen.

It sucks when someone you have feelings for doesn’t share those feelings; it happens to women all the time, too. We hear “I just want to be friends” and “you’re like one of the guys” and “you’re like a sister to me” just as often. But you’ll never hear a woman complain that guys just don’t appreciate a Nice Girl because we’re taught it’s our own fucking fault when we’re rejected—we aren’t pretty enough or thin enough or sexy enough, we weren’t sexual enough or were too sexual, we put out too much or too little or too soon or not soon enough, we didn’t wear our hair the right way or our skirt the right length, we’re “too tomboyish” or “too butch” or “too feminine”, or we’re “not their type”, or we’re otherwise not good enough in various ways to entice the man to grace us with his affection.

But when we’re not interested in someone, we’re vilified. We’re the bitch that lead them on, the bitch who let them buy us dinner but didn’t want to date them, the bitch who doesn’t appreciate a nice guy, the bitch they were nice to and then got nothing in return from.

And, frankly, fuck those people. Showing interest in me, being friendly with me, getting close to me, or eating a meal with me (even if they paid for it) doesn’t obligate me to open my heart or my legs. And anyone who doesn’t appreciate my friendship sure as hell doesn’t deserve my love or my pussy.

visual-poetry:

»ways the world ends« by richard grayson