This isn’t even funny I just love Mad Men and want to talk about it all the time.
This isn’t even funny I just love Mad Men and want to talk about it all the time.
(moonbird)
This here, this place, is desperate urgent communicating. Saying things and showing things because you cannot and should not keep it all, scratch and bat on the walls, and hope to be ok.
I am worried about my teeth. Those hidden back ones. I’m sure they shake and turn as I sleep.
I have been dreaming badly about us being tied together by our hair because we hid and hid and it grew and grew.
And I am only some good if you know so. I mean, I am good, but it is a braver beast when it has the weight of your water in it.
I hope you are ok I hope I am ok.
You have been sleeping badly. All tight with worry about asteroids arriving, and if you can still bake bread with your heavy little hands and those holes in your lungs.
When I dream of you there are no asteroids, and there is your bread, and you sleep all quiet and tiny breath.
(Source: , via hickeyheart)
Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: “My name is Kelsey and I’m nineteen..”
but what I’d really like to say is:
“My name means island of the ships but once
I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck-
not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire
after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.”
I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about me’s.
They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special.
The doctors, they want facts not details.
“I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-“
The right or the left?
Conversation over.
The teachers, they want interests, hobbies.
You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do?
The adults are a spew of questions.
What school do you go to? What classes are you taking?
What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend?
No, stop.
People my own age are the worst.
“I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.”
Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know,
done it?
I’m pulled apart, my interests travelling highway 2
my goals at a stop light at traffic hour,
my medical history on a billboard for the world to see.
But what about me?
Where’s the chance to say,
“I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets,
and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down
so I can swim with the stars.
I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with it.
It’s the blackholes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome.
I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years,
each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.”
No wonder none of us know who we are anymore.
– Kelsey Danielle, “I Was Told to Write an About Me and This is What Happened”
(via thosehearts)
The less I needed, the better I felt.
– Charles Bukowski
(Source: lizattemptstoblog, via lesliv)
Evan Holloway. Gray Scale, 2000, tree branches, paint and metal
Tumblr Monday 105 - Tumblr Artist
Jason Laferrera | on Tumblr (USA)
The textures and contours of old maps are fascinating, even the tattered and stained parts. Artist Jason Laferrera digitally manipulates cartographic materials to create fauna and fowl in poses reminiscent of field guides from a similarly early era of publication. These idealized depictions created from recycled imagery question our relationship with the boundaries we draw to divide the natural world. The patterns of forests and shores often become an animal’s feathers or fur, while the rings of topography often trace out wings or antlers. Many thanks to actegratuit for this Monday for having introduced us Jason Laferrera!
[more Jason Laferrera | Tumblr Monday with actegratuit]
(via darksilenceinsuburbia)
Old is New Again - buildings that have been refurbished and redesigned with a modern touch.
(via ifyouckb)
Exploring Destiny by Arturo H. Medrano
(Source: frenchtwist, via darksilenceinsuburbia)
Amzazing and intrincated Leaf Art by Lorenzo Duran
Quincy Station, 1946
Watercolor on paper, 22x30”
Jacob van Loon
(via darksilenceinsuburbia)
In honour of Jason Molina’s passing, here is some Songs: Ohia. He was 39.
