this is culturally inappropriate

A // 27

[jinxproof]

© Petra Collins

[bad-saints]

at this point the US is a democracy the way a coyote is a golden retriever. like, there’s a familial resemblance if you squint but you still don’t want it in your fucking house

[horreurscopes]

starting a collection for my anthropology class can you guys send me more posts like these

[horreurscopes]

[puppydog-pyrolosis]

Here's a few I have

[snailfriend777]

Crucially important to include the classic article "Body Ritual Among the Nacirema" (1956) in this collection. It's very short. Read it.

[probuccalfat]

people will describe their incredibly nebulous sexuality to you that they’ve never been able to define and the whole time you’re thinking that sounds like bisexuality brother

[dughole]

sobs forever

[bad-saints]

living in a state where people pregame to shitty indie folk music is a trial and a tribulation to me

[brucespringsteencomments]

[pangur-and-grim]

[senatortedcruz]

Lib boomer slop is so awesome

[letterful]

[havingapoemwithyou]

Poem by Denis Johnson

[kosmogrl]

[afinedaytomorrow]

[kvothes]

“does the left hand of darkness pass the bechdel test” the greatest thread in the history of forums, locked by a moderator after 12,239 pages of heated debate,

[i-give-you-a-fish]

No longer allowed to help my dad in the garden because i picked up the shovel and he saw “a gleeful and cruel darkness in my eyes”

[halobats]

this has reduced me to tears

[apoemaday]

Night Walk

by Franz Wright

The all-night convenience store’s empty and no one is behind the counter. You open and shut the glass door a few times causing a bell to go off, but no one appears. You only came to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe a copy of yesterday’s newspaper— finally you take one and leave thirty-five cents in its place. It is freezing, but it is a good thing to step outside again: you can feel less alone in the night, with lights on here and there between the dark buildings and trees. Your own among them, somewhere. There must be thousands of people in this city who are dying to welcome you into their small bolted rooms, to sit you down and tell you what has happened to their lives. And the night smells like snow. Walking home for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It’s unendurable, unendurable.