almost home
noise dept.
$LAYYYTER
Stranger Things
Andulka
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
taylor price
Peter Solarz
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
izzy's playlists!
Not today Justin
JBB: An Artblog!
Jules of Nature
đȘŒ
ojovivo
hello vonnie
todays bird
oozey mess
styofa doing anything
romaâ
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Hungary
seen from Canada
seen from Netherlands
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from Belgium
seen from Ireland
seen from Slovenia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Poland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Ireland
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
@fleetingxperfection
What do those Romanian lines mean?
Hey Nonnie!
The first one (De ce crezi ca va ascultam conversatia?) means âWhy do you think I was listening in to your conversation?â
The second one (M-ai urmarit de cand ai ajuns aici) means âYou have been watching me ever since you got hereâ
And the last one (Nu-mi dau seama daca nu ma placi ori daca esti atat de banuitor cu toata lumea) means âI canât figure out if you donât like me or if youâre so suspicious of everyoneâ :)
Hugs! <3
Weâll be kicking off the final leg of The Eras Tour this week, which is hard to comprehend. This tour has been the most wondrous experience and I knew I wanted to commemorate the memories we made together in a special way. Well, two ways actually. Excited to announce that The Official Eras Tour Book, filled with my own personal reflections, never-before-seen behind the scenes photos, all the magical memories you guys brought every single night AND âŠ. The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology on vinyl and CD will all be available for the first time ever only at Target starting Nov 29th. đ€
International info coming soon!
Normalize never forcing people to choose you. If someone thinks they can get better elsewhere â let them. Respectfully.
The Tortured Poets Department. An anthology of new works that reflect events, opinions and sentiments from a fleeting and fatalistic moment in time - one that was both sensational and sorrowful in equal measure. This period of the authorâs life is now over, the chapter closed and boarded up. There is nothing to avenge, no scores to settle once wounds have healed. And upon further reflection, a good number of them turned out to be self-inflicted. This writer is of the firm belief that our tears become holy in the form of ink on a page. Once we have spoken our saddest story, we can be free of it.
And then all thatâs left behind is the tortured poetry.
THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT is out now.
https://taylor.lnk.to/thetorturedpoetsdepartment
It's missing you in the small hours of the morning time.
Waiting can be so hard. It's a rational thing. You understand how it works and why you need to wait. But love is so irrational. Love doesn't understand waiting.
Roger Zelazny // Fernando Pessoa
iâm sorry but this is always going to be funny to me
Sometimes itâs hard because I still have dreams that haunt me
Donât. . .
Donât ever stop even though your heart is breaking
Donât look over your shoulder at the love you left behind
They say lifeâs too short but theyâre wrong
Itâs so long
Sometimes the only way to go
Is to just go on
~JSE
Reblog in 10 seconds and $1700 will come your way
I have nothing to lose and 1700$ to gain
wrong currency but ill take what i can get
when things are not FINE / ma.c.a
i thought if I could have you
just once more
one kiss
a sweet caress
i could get over it
but there is no getting over you
is there?
you are in me like the air in my lungs
like the blood that circulates in my veins
damn you damn you
-isamar [one day just not today]
9/11 emotions setting in all week. This happens every year, thinking back to the days, weeks, months in NYC, feelings of fear, uncertainty, loss, and confusion. I remember my family asking me to come home, but I vowed before I moved back in June 2001 (I moved in 1999 and stayed a year), to be there for 5 years, no matter what.
It's incredible how fast 20 years goes by, but I can viscerally experience that day still. I can hear it, all the silence and sirens, the patrolling fighter jet in the middle of the night, I can smell the burning acrid smoke from across the river to my apartment in Red Hook (burning for months and months after), I see the ashes and papers strewn on my street and in the water down under the pier.
But I also feel the kindness of the stranger who drove me closer to my neighborhood, the bus driver, wishing me to get home safe, the corner bodega owner, Mohammed, who offered and shared condolences. (He later put up an American flag to avoid hostility of hate crimes that blanketed the city.) And, of course, in the months later, the firefighter who lived next door, playing his keyboard and singing silly songs about the Yankees to us, possibly trying to forget everything he'd seen that day scouring ground zero.
Kindness matters. It really does.
â9/11 was a severe tragedy that shook america to the core and was such a devastating event that ruined not only the lives of the 3,000 people who died, but all of their family and friendsâ and â9/11 isnt an excuse to attack or treat muslims like shit as the majority of those who are muslim believe in non violence and peace and the actions of a few awful people isnt an accurate depiction of a whole community that contains millions of peopleâ are two mindsets that can exist at once.
talking about 9/11 with white people who werenât personally affected is literally one of the most frustrating things ever because they wonât stop talking about their experiences (even if their only connection is being in the same country during the event), but when i, a middle eastern person, try to contribute to the conversation, i canât get a fucking word in.
like what the fuck, if nothing happened to you on that day â which, you know, thank goodness â why the fuck do you insist on dominating the conversation? my daily life is still being affected by this even now, over ten years later.
but youâre not interested in hearing about how my fifth grade health teacher never again called on me or the arab girl in my class. youâre not interested in how whenever my family travels, all fourteen of us (a number that used to include young children) get ârandomlyâ searched. youâre not interested in the fact that when i was asked to buy a propane tank for a barbecue, i spent the rest of the day stressed out and worried that the attendants at all the stores visited to inquire were all going to think i was making explosives (all stores in the neighborhood mysteriously were out of propane tanks in the middle of summer). youâre not interested in the fact that whenever my cousin prepares to fly on his own, his mother calls him to make sure heâs clean shaven so he doesnât look âlike a terrorist.â youâre not interested in the fact that when i was youâre not interested in the fact that i once witnessed a whole family of white people bypass the x-ray scanner for the old fashioned metal detector, but when i asked for the same treatment, i was denied; when i pointed out the (many) signs claiming that i had the right to refuse going through that machine, the tsa agent who mere seconds earlier berated me for my request went conveniently deaf. youâre not interested in hearing about how my sister was told âsorry about your leaderâ when osama bin laden was killed.
i could reference personal anecdotes until i went blue in the face.
there are countless people who have stories like this, stories that are grotesque and demeaning and terrifying. these are everyday occurrences.
but youâre not interested in any of that. frankly, youâre not even that interested when middle eastern and muslim (and sometimes non-muslim desi) people are subjected to extreme violence or killed. you guys got over chapel hill pretty damn fast. if you noticed it at all.
you donât give a fuck about us, or our ongoing 9/11 stories. you just want to tell me about how horrible it was, sitting in class and listening to other kids get their names called on the pa system.
but i totally get it. it was really hard for you.
