plastiko, ashes. @ouroboros-retching - Tumblr Blog

Johnny, doubled down

Placeholder kinda life. Sleepless and untouchable.

Ragged round the edges of a gaping wound. Stapled clothes, a scuttled shoe. Hollowed sole and halo-proof. Bored and empty, rocket steady, slip from grip, a noose, a bruise...

Just chickenshit and risk averse, ain't no gambled cost thats worse than flushing handfuls of blue pills.

Suicide King, I surmise, we're better off lobotomized. 'Twixt crooked hearts and single eyes, we can be Jack, or Bitch, or just high...

How are you? Are you new to this? Do you smoke?

cbvsop-deactivated20140705

ouroboros-retching

Killing Them Softly (2012)

word-stuck

jayadonisg

tequilaandtiramisu

A moment of silent for all those in retail this holiday season.

spicyjamaicanpatty-deactivated2

this cartoon works at target clearly

spoony-irish-bard-deactivated20

That was my exact thought lmao

chemgags

our chemistry teachers are so punny

brainpiercer-deactivated2025062

stef

slephoto

The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money. Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles. But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that’d still be keeping his feet dry in ten years’ time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet. This was the Captain Samuel Vimes ‘Boots’ theory of socioeconomic unfairness.

Terry Pratchett, “Men At Arms” This is one of the best breakdowns I’ve ever seen of how expensive it is to be poor. (via sosungalittleclodofclay)

travisdotgov

Visit Original Link

this is what you look like when you’re not lookin’ at me…

(unreleased outtake from P.O.S’s Audition sessions, 2006)

blakebaggott-deactivated2017041

revelation19

This is 100% true

musiqchild007

This tweet sounds as though introverts consume the souls of others before they engage in social events.

revelation19

This is 100% true

volumexii

Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.

— Brian Eno, A Year With Swollen Appendices (via volumexii)

unbiaseddairylodge

oldboy (2003) dir. chan-wook park

irynka

And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someones crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself.

Unknown (via crystallized-teardrops)

Jesus. Thankful I read this.

(via fromthebrewcity)