randomhouse:

For National Poetry Month, Nathan Gelgud illustrated Frank O’Hara’s “Having a Coke With You.”

(Source: clonesbians, via gardenfullofthoughts)

raptorific:

Swear to god, some guys are terrified that girls are faking common interests to impress them and act really hostile towards anyone they even SUSPECT of doing such a thing

but then they turn around and fake a whole friendship in the hopes of getting sex out of girls, and get mad at them when it doesn’t work

and they super do not see the irony in that

(via wolfennights)

theuppitynegras:

just think about y’all millions and millions of little dark skinned black girls are going to go to the supermarket with their parents this month and when they’re waiting in line at the check out aisle they’re going to look up and see Lupita Nyong’o being hailed as the most beautiful woman in the world god is amazing

(via soleur)

maycontainfeminists:

cindyscissorhands:

dilfgod:

me when someone tells me I’m being heterophobic 

Or racist against white people

or sexist against men

(Source: pretyhurts, via bitterassfandom)

(via wesssel)

im-a-walking-paradox:

the ULTIMATE comeback and im not playing

(Source: femburton, via pizza)

deerwoof:

first rule of fight club

  1. no fightin!…shakira shakiraaa

(via riotsamer)

currently.

currently.

wordpainting:

beckisbookshelf:

Lois Lowry was born on March 20th, 1937. Today she will be 77 years of age. In those 77 years she has written over 30 books, and received two John Newberry Medals among many other awards for her fiction and biographical books. Her topics are broad and all well done. They’re mainly aimed at the Pre-Teen and early Young Adult audiences but are universal in their themes and easily cross generations.

In 1994 I was given a book called The Giver as a reading assignment for my middle school literature class. The cover boasted an old man and trees, to say that I was not interested would be an understatement. I tucked it down into my book bag and let my larger books fall on top of it, hoping that if I damaged it enough I wouldn’t have to read it. It didn’t work. As the due date for my book report loomed ever closer I begrudgingly put aside my over-used copy of To Kill A Mockingbird and opened the new book about some strange place where everything in life is decided for the inhabitants by the governing elders.

“It was almost December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. No. Wrong word, Jonas thought. Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen.”

That’s all it took. The first four lines on page one welcomed me to the new book. If only I had known then that the book was going to follow me everywhere for, at least, the next twenty years, I may have not used a sparkly gel pen to scribe my name in it. I would have taken the time to read it more thoroughly. I would have taken every word as the motivation for which it is meant. To have my first reading back would be a great gift, but that won’t happen. Now I know the book and the book knows me. I know that pages 28 and 29 are where the spine split and that it’s where we first meet Fiona. Page 78 is where I put a little purple glitter inked star beside, “He rested for a moment, breathing deeply, ‘I am so weighted with them,’ he said.” Page 91 is where my mind was blown and I had to go back and start all over upon the realization that Jonas’s world doesn’t even have color.  I know that all of chapter 23 is hanging on by some tiny bit of 21 year-old glue at the top of the pages. I know that my parents scraped together $5.50 of what very little money they had and purchased me The Giver. For that $5.50 I am grateful.

The Giver introduced me to thinking. It took me gently by the hand and showed me that maybe what we know about life isn’t really all there is to know. Windows of new thought were opened, that eventually lead to doors being cracked open, and then walls being taken down. The Giver changed my life. It may be a simple book, but sometimes that’s what you need – a simple book to strike the match of thought against.

Here I sit, a thirty year-old, wife and mother of three, crying tears of extreme gratitude for the little book that sits to my left, battered and worn and broken. Thank you, Lois Lowry, for the gift of curiosity, the spark of rebellion, the first seeds of free thought, a perfect example of bravery, a protagonist made of selflessness, and an adventure into a world not so unlike ours after all. Thank you for putting your imagination, hope and heart onto paper, and being strong enough to see it through to publishing. Thank you for the words of hope and strength that I now get to share with my children. Thank you, for writing. Thank you for continuing to write. Thank you.

Thank you for the book that changed my life.
Happy birthday, Lois.


Sincerely,
Becki

Very Nice!

(via gardenfullofthoughts)

elisemag:

Spring Nights Mix {listen here}
For long Spring Nights that make you feel alive.
1. Free - Graffiti6 // 2. Goats in Trees - Foster the People // 3. Dancing On The Edge Of Our Graves - Born Ruffians // 4. Little Games - The Colourist // 5. Breakers - Local Natives // 6. Electric Feel - MGMT // 7. Bloodshake - Peace // 8. High Times - Landon Pigg // 9. Play With Fire - Vance Joy // 10. Best Friend - Foster The People //
-Molly
p.s. PLEASE don’t delete text!
credit for the photo to
1ooflyzz

elisemag:

Spring Nights Mix {listen here}

For long Spring Nights that make you feel alive.

1. Free - Graffiti6 // 2. Goats in Trees - Foster the People // 3. Dancing On The Edge Of Our Graves - Born Ruffians // 4. Little Games - The Colourist // 5. Breakers - Local Natives // 6. Electric Feel - MGMT // 7. Bloodshake - Peace // 8. High Times - Landon Pigg // 9. Play With Fire - Vance Joy // 10. Best Friend - Foster The People //

-Molly

p.s. PLEASE don’t delete text!

credit for the photo to
1ooflyzz

thechanelmuse:

Good Fucking Design Advice

I wanna buy every fucking thing.

Read More

"You cannot un-see things. Stains are never quite erased. Scars never fully heal.
And life goes on."

Michelle K., What Keeps Me Up At Night #58. (via histrionics)

(Source: michellekpoems, via histrionics)

"You are so serious, as if
a glacier spoke in your ear
or you had to walk through
the great gate of Kiev
to get to the living room.

I worry about this because I
love you. As if it weren’t grotesque
enough that we live in hydrogen
and breathe like atomizers, you
have to think I’m a great architect!

and you float regally by on your
incessant escalator, calm, a jungle queen.
Thinking it a steam shovel. Looking
a little uneasy. But you are yourself
again, yanking silver beads off your neck.

Remember, the Russian Easter Overture
is full of bunnies. Be always high,
full of regard and honor and lanolin. Oh
ride horseback in pink linen, be happy!
and ride with your beads on, because it rains."

V. R. Lang by Frank O’Hara (via rightorder)