cherry valley forever
Keni
Show & Tell
Monterey Bay Aquarium
occasionally subtle
Acquired Stardust
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Andulka
Peter Solarz

No title available
Stranger Things
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
AnasAbdin
taylor price
trying on a metaphor

Janaina Medeiros

shark vs the universe
hello vonnie

seen from Israel

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seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from New Zealand
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seen from Malaysia
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@despite-everything
Beautiful afternoonposting
only americans will understand::
shirley temple DVD set infomercial
the european mind cannot comprehend the 48 oz dunkin bucket
fwuaty-ate ounceza cawffee
will i ever be done clothes shopping??
for the record i don't actually own a ton of clothing. i have like... just enough to get by as most of my old clothing has either disintegrated at this point of makes me dysphoric. i've been having to buy nicer/more formal stuff lately due to my job requiring professional wear (luckily, we get some creative freedom, so i can wear things with a unique fit or edge to them, which is great), but i also have thick juicy thighs that destroy all my pants. and my one pair of jeans are looking a little threadbare...
recently got these amazing linen pants i'm obsessed with. want to get more from this creator because they're so comfortable, the fit is perfect, and the linen is high quality. but they're like $100 per pair. okay.
i could use a few more basic t-shirts for when i'm not at work and used to wear this band shirt all the time (its super stretched out now, so has been mostly retired for day wear. it even shows my wide-set binder straps, so maybe i'll wear it post top surgery, but who knows) so i looked up the brand. it's 100% recycled cotton, but the shirts at $40 each. okay.
i could also use another binder... i'd love to get top surgery and plan to, but i need to save up more money first and am trying to do some body recomp first, so another binder would help in the meantime.
replaced all my old socks with wool ones last year, so i'm set there. but i need more underwear. the jockstraps i like are usually $15-20 each. kill me now.
and technically i can get by without these items. but if i don't get some more clothes soon, i'll wear through my current stuff too quickly and will have to replace a bunch of stuff all at once next year. i know my clothing well and wear my shit hard.
i know there's cheaper stuff out there, but i really care about wearing natural materials and am really struggling with my dysphoria so fit is insanely important to me right now.
ugh.
this is so funny bc on the one hand what the fuck are we doing tumblr. like you cannot be serious you're censoring entirely sfw concepts bc sometimes people ALSO involve it in fetish stuff? but on the other hand. i was in fact searching it in hopes of finding porn so you do have me there technically i can't lie
my partner doesn’t use pet names nearly as much as i do, which is very funny because i will crack my gay little knuckles and say some shit like “good morning my sun and moon, my loveliest boy, my baby my sweetheart my darling dearest” and he will reply “hello adrian”
Imagine being the gays at a pride event in 2004 living their lives when someone grabs the microphone and announces to the room that Ronald Reagan was pronounced dead. Can you even imagine the hype, the celebration, the pure elation
This is the Pride Month that It will happen. I feel it in my gay bones
a moment of silence for my roommate who has to endure me doing linguistics homework. out loud. making sounds with parts of my mouth and throat I didn’t even realise I could use to make sounds. repeatedly and with passion
i think the moment of silence needs to come directly from you on this one
the problem with genetically modified crops is not so much the genetic modification but the patenting of genetic codes (and crops in general) as a tool of maintaining agricultural imperialism, and for this reason I can't talk to most people about GMOs
I have never, and will never, use "ofc" to mean "of fucking course". It literally stands for OF Course...
do we think chocolate guy is gay?
-Grandpa Joe muttering to Charlie in that factory
you can post on tumblr even when you're trying to take a break from social media it literally doesn't count. it's like pepsi max, or pescatarianism
I wrote a eulogy
"I wrote a eulogy for my best friend last week. Then I read it to him. At the pub. On a Tuesday."
He was alive, holding a pint, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I have.
I'm Mick. I'm 70. The man across the table was Barry. Seventy-two. Best mate for 46 years. Met on a building site in 1979. He dropped a plank on my foot. I called him something unrepeatable. He bought me a pint after the shift. Haven't gone a week without talking since.
Three months ago we went to a funeral. Bloke we'd worked with. Cancer. The eulogies were beautiful - people saying what he meant to them, things they'd clearly never said to his face. And all I could think was, he can't hear any of this.
Every beautiful sentence. Every "he changed my life." Said to a room of crying people and a box of wood.
I turned to Barry. Whispered, "What a waste."
Drove home. Couldn't sleep. Because I realised, if Barry died tomorrow, I'd stand up and say extraordinary things about this man. Things I've never said in 46 years. And he'd be in the box, missing all of it.
So I wrote them down. Took a week. Harder than expected - not finding the words, but admitting I had them.
Rang him. "Tuesday. The Crown. Need to read you something."
"Have you joined a book club?"
"Just come."
Same corner table. Pint of bitter. Crisps. I pulled out the paper. He saw my hands shake.
"Mick. What's this?"
"Your eulogy. I'm reading it now because I'm not wasting it on a day you can't hear it."
"Have you gone mad?"
"Probably. Shut up and listen."
I read it. In a pub. To a man very much alive and very much uncomfortable.
I told him about the plank and how it was the best injury of my life. About the night he drove forty minutes in rain to help change a tyre. About how he rang every day for three months after my divorce and never once asked "Are you alright?" - just talked about football and weather, because he knew I didn't need a question. I needed a voice.
I told him he was the funniest man I'd ever known and his jokes were terrible and both things were true. That he'd been a better father than he thinks. That his wife's a saint and he knows it. That I'd have been a worse man without him.
He didn't look at me. Stared at his pint. Jaw tight. Doing that thing men do when the feelings arrive and they'd rather swallow glass than show it.
When I finished, long silence. Then he picked up his pint, took a sip, and said,
"You're paying for the next round. And the one after."
That was his answer. Perfect. Because Barry doesn't say "I love you too." He says "you're buying."
But in the car park, he hugged me. Not the quick back-pat. A real one. Thirty seconds. Neither let go first.
And he said quietly into my shoulder, "Don't read that again at the real one. I want new material."
Who would you write a eulogy for - while they're still here?
Don't wait. The flowers can't hear. The box doesn't laugh. Say it now. At the pub. Over a bad cup of tea. You'll feel ridiculous.
They'll look uncomfortable. It'll be the most important thing you've ever done.
Read them the speech while they can still hug you in the car park.”
.
More examples of the WORST mansplaining here.
This might be my favorite
This is mine