At This Life in My Time

Fiat Lux.

[faganchelsea]

I am never satisfied about anything. I have an almost never-ending list of personal flaws and past mistakes, yet I sit atop a golden throne of judgment, from which I will point my jewel-encrusted scepter at you and tell you to iron your shirt. I will pick fights with you constantly because I mistake disagreements and fundamental differences for passion, and I consider a night in which we throw dinner plates at each other to be time well spent. I will find your most insecure points and needle at them until they are raw, bleeding stumps and you are weighing out the pros and cons of throwing me in a wood chipper. I will be infuriating, I will be insufferable, I will be incredibly frustrating—but I won’t be boring.

I’m reading my very first article ever and it’s mind-blowing how much of an unfettered asshole I was. I kind of enjoy it. (via faganchelsea)

[jh-001-deactivated20151203]

[fatherjohntwisty]

Jones vs. Coppola. There’s no way it’s just a theory.

[alwaysperhaps-blog]

One song from every new artist (or artist with a new album) I listened to this year. Interesting note: almost the same number of artists as last year. Enjoy!

[bungalowclassic]

[boniverotica]

Bon Iver is stripping blackberry vines of their thorns, ready to begin a new handwoven basket. He’s tucked a lovely autumn rose behind his ear, and his eyes are full of sunrise. ‘This is all a man wants,’ he says, sniffing the rose.

[voxsart]

Clothing is at once a science, an art, a habit, and a sentiment.

Honoré de Balzac (via voxsart)

[alwaysperhaps-blog]

I have no words for these feelings, and barely an outlet. Hello again, Tumblr. Maybe you can help? (Or maybe this will be my only post this summer)

[humansofnewyork]

“He’s always there for me, even during tough times.” “What’s one tough time he was there for you?” “When our dad got diagnosed with brain cancer.”

(San Francisco, CA)

[artsandcrafts28blog]

“First Fruits”

Giovanni Boldini

1874

[truthful]

Mama Lies a Lot - She Lies a Lot

[alwaysperhaps-blog]

At what point do you love your favorite artist too much? When you start watching his home videos. : |

[alwaysperhaps-blog]

The Smiths: I Know It's Over, Brand New: Jesus Christ. Usually does the trick.

Oh damn, Jesus Christ is a great idea. You have a taste for the sad. I appreciate that.

[alwaysperhaps-blog]

You know that game...

...where you try to get to Hitler or something in Wikipedia in as few clicks as you can?

I'm trying to get to rock-bottom sad in as few songs as I can.

[broodinghunx]

Basically what I hear whenever Joffrey’s on screen

[alwaysperhaps-blog]

"THIS IS WHY I AM ROYAL AND YOUUUU ARE SERVILE."

[newfluffytown]

A man in love with a woman from a different era.

[measureandchange-blog]

Drumming

My thundering chest or

your practicing best

Nowadays I am surrounded by drums

You hitting every one

[aryastarks]

She was sixteen, brown-haired and brown-eyed, slender and beautiful. The people called out her name as she passed, held up their children for her blessing, and scattered flowers under the hooves of her horse. 

[alwaysperhaps-blog]

I've been trying to write poems about you in my head all day, but it's been a drunken chase for truth and I'm worn out and in stitches.

I suppose I'd rather sit here reeking of cigarettes, banking on my "unfinished business" than pursuing a fresh-aired future with you. I am a fool in five colors and god knows you deserve better than a man who, for all his love of the present, can't sieze a chance at love right in front of him. Better to do honor to uncertainty and a summer's sun long since set.

My soft-skinned lover, I will curse this day for as long as I live; the day my heart's strange shape and cavernous size still had no room for a beautiful girl with a mind like a tapestry unfolding in the sun.

I could never not choose you and you will keep on being my choice. But I can't let you follow me to the shores of some foreign sea, where I need to put to rest all the ghosts of last year so that I can function in love again.

I see myself reaching out for you when the leaves change color. I see you hating me for it even now. I see the words I can say to fix all this.

Clearest of all, I see a poor bastard who gambled his heart away too often and too cheaply. And what a pauper I am now.