Tetsuo: The Iron Man (Shinya Tsukamoto, 1989)
cherry valley forever
Xuebing Du

shark vs the universe
taylor price
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

roma★
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trying on a metaphor
One Nice Bug Per Day
Sade Olutola
todays bird

oozey mess
Claire Keane
occasionally subtle
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
will byers stan first human second
DEAR READER
KIROKAZE

Origami Around
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@nurgledon
Tetsuo: The Iron Man (Shinya Tsukamoto, 1989)
Keaton Insane
All kinds of ohhhh my gawwwwwd up in this photo.
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Portal/Half-Life Film In the Works!?
Hot off the press! (can I use that saying in a blog?) Valve is looking into making a Portal or Half-Life film with Bad Robot. The news dropped last night at the end of J.J. Abrams’ and Gabe Newell’s opening keynote at D.I.C.E. 2013.
Full Story @Nerdist
Photos by Sean Keenan via Elysha Riddell
I think a stringent adherence to grammatical rules is boring?
The sky is coming through the mismatched boards of the roof, pure blue and distant, the day rising from the oily cement of the floor as again I circle the heavy bag throwing out more punches until I can't. If my sons were here they'd cheer me on, and I'd keep going into the impossible heat and before I quit I might throw, just once, for the first time, the perfect right cross. They say it's magic. When it lands you feel the force of your whole body, even the deeper organs, the dark fluids that go untapped for decades, the tiny pale microbes haunting the bone marrow, the intricate patterns that devised the bones of the feet, you feel them finally coming together like so many atoms of salt and water as they form an ocean of a tear, for just an instant before the hand comes back under the chin in its ordinary defensive posture.
Phillip Levine, from "The Right Cross"
First, her tippet made of tulle, easily lifted off her shoulders and laid on the back of a wooden chair. And her bonnet, the bow undone with a light forward pull. Then the long white dress, a more complicated matter with mother-of-pearl buttons down the back, so tiny and numerous that it takes forever before my hands can part the fabric, like a swimmer's dividing water, and slip inside. You will want to know that she was standing by an open window in an upstairs bedroom, motionless, a little wide-eyed, looking out at the orchard below, the white dress puddled at her feet on the wide-board, hardwood floor. The complexity of women's undergarments in nineteenth-century America is not to be waved off, and I proceeded like a polar explorer through clips, clasps, and moorings, catches, straps, and whalebone stays, sailing toward the iceberg of her nakedness. Later, I wrote in a notebook it was like riding a swan into the night, but, of course, I cannot tell you everything - the way she closed her eyes to the orchard, how her hair tumbled free of its pins, how there were sudden dashes whenever we spoke. What I can tell you is it was terribly quiet in Amherst that Sabbath afternoon, nothing but a carriage passing the house, a fly buzzing in a windowpane. So I could plainly hear her inhale when I undid the very top hook-and-eye fastener of her corset and I could hear her sigh when finally it was unloosed, the way some readers sigh when they realize that Hope has feathers, that reason is a plank, that life is a loaded gun that looks right at you with a yellow eye.
Billy Collins, "Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes" I've been loving Billy Collins lately.
Harpo and Dali were bffs. Who knew? Awesome barbed wire harp, Harpsies.
I just had a moment
“As a nation, we began by declaring ‘all men are created equal.’ We now practically read it to mean ‘all men are created equal—except Negros.’ Soon, it will read ‘all men are created equal except Negros and foreigners and Catholics.’ When it comes to this I shall prefer to emigrate to some country where they make no pretense of loving liberty. To Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy.” - Abraham Lincoln #FuckYeahAbrahamLincoln
The whole idea of it makes me feel like I'm coming down with something, something worse than any stomach ache or the headaches I get from reading in bad light-- a kind of measles of the spirit, a mumps of the psyche, a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul. You tell me it is too early to be looking back, but that is because you have forgotten the perfect simplicity of being one and the beautiful complexity introduced by two. But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit. At four I was an Arabian wizard. I could make myself invisible by drinking a glass of milk a certain way. At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince. But now I am mostly at the window watching the late afternoon light. Back then it never fell so solemnly against the side of my tree house, and my bicycle never leaned against the garage as it does today, all the dark blue speed drained out of it. This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself, as I walk through the universe in my sneakers. It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends, time to turn the first big number. It seems only yesterday I used to believe there was nothing under my skin but light. If you cut me I could shine. But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life, I skin my knees. I bleed.
Billy Collins, "On Turning 10" This poem helps relieve some of the hatred for my students.
Filmography: Matching Cinematic Stills with Real Life by Christopher Moloney [x]
AM I DOING IT RIGHT? #ihassmartphonenow (Taken with Instagram)
I will remember you. #sarahmclaughlin (Taken with Instagram)
paraLEGals (Taken with Instagram)
THE LOLLIES have new shirts for this tour. #thelollies #weareone #supportthelgbtcommunity (Taken with Instagram)
— Franz Kafka
jeeeeeze - quoting Kafka