Ken @dickholessss - Tumblr Blog

Marilyn Monroe photographed by Richard Avedon in May, 1957.

from time to time i make it rhyme but don’t hold that kind of thing against me- oh well, what the hell, so it won’t sell. what i want to tell- is what’s on my mind: ‘taint dishes, ‘taint wishes, it’s thoughts flinging by before i die- and to think in ink. — Poem by Marilyn Monroe, published in Fragments: Poems, Intimate Letters, Notes by Marilyn Monroe.

princessparadoxical

“You don’t know anyone at the party, so you don’t want to go. You don’t like cottage cheese, so you haven’t eaten it in years. This is your choice, of course, but don’t kid yourself: it’s also the flinch. Your personality is not set in stone. You may think a morning coffee is the most enjoyable thing in the world, but it’s really just a habit. Thirty days without it, and you would be fine. You think you have a soul mate, but in fact you could have had any number of spouses. You would have evolved differently, but been just as happy. You can change what you want about yourself at any time. You see yourself as someone who can’t write or play an instrument, who gives in to temptation or makes bad decisions, but that’s really not you. It’s not ingrained. It’s not your personality. Your personality is something else, something deeper than just preferences, and these details on the surface, you can change anytime you like. If it is useful to do so, you must abandon your identity and start again. Sometimes, it’s the only way.”

— Julien Smith, The Flinch (via wnq-anonymous)

soundgarden-deactivated20171015

Handwritten lyrics “The Day I Tried To Live”

blkbird

scottrichardweiland

arifables

“I was looking for a love unlike my parents’ love or my sister’s love or the love on a foreign kitchen floor. I wanted my own kitchen to keep clean and full of bread and milk and hot sauce and a big clean empty sink where I could wash my dishes. I wanted to forgive my mother and father for their misery and find myself a light man who lived buoyantly and to be both his light and his dark, serious baby.”

— Rebecca Dinerstein, The Sunlit Night (via fragmentarie)