drudgeons

♠️ Soccer. Bikes. Photos.

[vanschneider]

Print Ad for Semplice.com 

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A warrior monk's funeral

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A Standoff In Four Parts

Life’s a beach

Get the bag and then bug out

Shield guy [Tina Belcher voice] "Uhhhhhhhh"

Fin.

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Been obsessed with the new Disclosure record lately, and this track/video is 🌶️

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I've been playing Ghost of Tsushima and goddamn this game is beautiful

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Goddamn this record is the jam

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I made a thing for fun and then wanted a t-shirt of it, so I figured maybe some other Özil/Misfits/Arsenal/football/soccer fans might want one as well. Turns out you can also get mugs and hoodies and laptop cases.

https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/663996-mesut

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Iranian photographer Seyed Ali Hoseinifar's captivating portrait of depression titled Baby, I'm Not Good paints a somber story of happiness conflicted with sadness.

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Mellow Monday jams

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Made some images over the weekend for Iron Quill Tattoo, where most of my work has been done. Great folks, and talented artists.

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Amy Hood, “The Road Beckons”

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“Wish I could turn you back into a stranger Cause if I was never in your life, you wouldn't have to change this”

This is the best kind of melancholy.

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“Don’t try me, I’m not a free sample. Step to me and you will be handled.”

[austinkleon]

Photography would seem to preserve our past and make it invulnerable to the distortions of repeated memorial superimpositions, but I think that is a fallacy: photographs supplant the past and corrupt our memories.

Sally Mann, Hold Still (via austinkleon)

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On repeat.

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“The Edge...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others - the living - are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later. But the edge is still out there.”

[somnulentia]

[drudgeons]

“The ontological fallacy of expecting a light at the end of the tunnel, well, that’s what the preacher sells, same as a shrink. See, the preacher, he encourages your capacity for illusion. The he tells you it’s a fucking virtue. Always a buck to be had doing that, and it’s such a desperate sense of entitlement, isn’t it? “Surely this is all for me. Me. Me, me, me. I, I. I’m so fucking important. I’m so fucking important, then, right?” Fuck you.”