Saturday, August 30, 2014

why don’t i fucking have any lava lamps

Wednesday, August 27, 2014
1910-again:

Laszlo Mednyanszky, In the Outskirt of the City 1903

1910-again:

Laszlo Mednyanszky, In the Outskirt of the City 1903

We see the world, not as it is, but as we are — or, as we are conditioned to see it. When we open our mouths to describe what we see, we in effect describe ourselves, our perceptions, our paradigms. ― Stephen R. Covey (via psych-quotes)
Monday, August 25, 2014

tyulipan:

drake in the anaconda video and van gogh’s ‘at eternity’s gate’

Sunday, August 24, 2014

sprinkledwords:

Emily used to have a couch.

I like to think that with the couch I bought Ziggy’s love, but that lady keeps you guessing.

Saturday, August 23, 2014
nortonism:

The thing about this is that sculptures like these in art history were for the male gaze. Photoshop a phone to it and suddenly she’s seen as vain and conceited. That’s why I’m 100% for selfie culture because apparently men can gawk at women but when we realize how beautiful we are we’re suddenly full of ourselves…

nortonism:

The thing about this is that sculptures like these in art history were for the male gaze. Photoshop a phone to it and suddenly she’s seen as vain and conceited. That’s why I’m 100% for selfie culture because apparently men can gawk at women but when we realize how beautiful we are we’re suddenly full of ourselves…

(Source: nevver)

(Source: rachel-actually)

Monday, August 18, 2014
That’s the best thing about language: every time you use a word you are summoning so many other things—all the times that word has ever been used. I know this sounds a little psychedelic, but maybe I have an ancestor one hundred years ago who used this word that I choose to write now. What does it mean that everything that we are writing is recycled? Words are full of ghosts. Poetry is full of ghosts. Morgan Parker (via blackcontemporaryart)
Thursday, August 14, 2014
People aren’t either wicked or noble. They’re like chef’s salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict. Lemony Snicket, The Grim Grotto (via shemelon)

(Source: shadesfire)

eggmp3 said: pls tell me about the NMH show what was the experience like did you cry i would have bawled

I’d seen them once before, and that time I cried right from the start when he began with Two Headed Boy, alone on stage in the spotlight, and that weakened me for the rest of it too. This time was different though. The venue was really tiny and intimate, I was right at the front, like two metres from Jeff maybe, and the crowd was SO into it, everyone knew every single word and was screaming along, screaming their hearts out (as was I), and it was much more intense, which made it feel more real, you know? All I could do was take it all in. I didn’t start crying until encore, he came out with Two Headed Boy pt 2 and finished with Engine and then I got outside and had to sit down and continue to sob for probably ten minutes as my friend patted my back and told me it was gonna be ok. 

The show itself was incredible though - so much fun in songs like King of Carrot Flowers pt 3 and Holland 1945, because everyone just loses their shit, but the thing with their upbeat songs is that as fun as they are, the lyrics are often pretty dark and/or serious, so the fun you’re having feels more significant because they’re making you appreciate LIFE. The stand out though was, without a doubt, Oh Comely. Watching that song performed live is like a religious experience. Eight minutes of musical and lyrical genius. Oh god.

The band was amazing and so real, each and every one of them. I loved the large brass guy with a hefty white neckbeard, who when he wasn’t playing sang along with Jeff furiously, every word, metres away from any microphone. He just loved the songs that much, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t being heard. Also the bassist/accordionist/musical saw player who juggled instruments all over the place, that guy was fucking incredible. And Jeff. Jeff, sweet angel, only addressed the crowd once, at the very end - he said thank you before he walked offstage. After each song he would smile and give a big nod to the crowd, touch his fist to his chest or place his palms together in some sort of gesture of gratitude, but not speak. His whole presence between songs was very distant, as was the way he presented himself: long thick hair and beard, big jacket, and a cap. They asked for no photography during the show but you could barely see his face anyway. But when he sang it was so honest and real and raw that it didn’t matter. You felt like he was naked up there. He was dripping with sweat and his voice would crack and he would open his mouth as wide as it would go, on those notes that seem to go on forever. It was incredible. He is such an unbelievable artist, in the most complete meaning of the word. And then after we got a tram back into the centre of Prague, we had to walk across Charles Bridge on this warm summer night, with the lights of the city ahead of us reflected in the river, and the glowing beacon of the castle on the hill behind us, people in little groups all over the place, happily drunk, laughing, singing, playing guitar, and then on through the yellow lit cobblestone streets all the way back to our hostel, where I quickly passed out because emotional rollercoaster. Fuck.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

yourealightagainmydear:

So… Neutral Milk Hotel are playing in Italy in June, and I’m wondering on a scale of one to ridiculously reckless, how ridiculously reckless would it be to book a weekend long round trip to Europe to see a band?

I will not do this but I really really wish I would. What if they break up again? I live in constant fear. Europe is not far when you consider the alternative: back in time (ie. the only way i could see them if they break up again {as previously mentioned, I live in constant fear}). Jeff Mangum is such a sensitive and flighty soul, I’m worried that if a camera bulb flashes too brightly or an audience member begins visibly recording him on their iphone, he will instantly shrink into a ball and roll away into the woods never to be seen again, like a hedgehog or a particularly fast, exiting tumbleweed.

I DID IT HA!

"I will not do this" -HA! WRONG!

I DID IT!

FUCK YOU PAST SELF FOR DOUBTING ME 

Tuesday, August 12, 2014
lizawithazed:

sometimes you see a pun so artfully constructed you just have to stand back in awe.

lizawithazed:

sometimes you see a pun so artfully constructed you just have to stand back in awe.

(Source: iraffiruse)

veganweedsoup:

nonmono-perspective:

And above we see one of the few non-slut-shaming bisexual jokes ever made in television history.

we have to put our trust in to bob’s burgers, people

(Source: rorybbellows)

Because lying to your kids about sex helps nobody. Telling them that sex is “only between mommies and daddies” is a lie that leads to confused, hormone charged teenagers. Telling them that sex is “only something that happens when two people love each other very much” is a lie that causes hormone charged teenagers to confuse “love” with “lust,” or “obsession.” It leads to leaps of logic like, “If I have sex with them, we must be in love.” Or worse- “If I love them, I have to have sex with them.” And how many teenage tragedies are based on that misconception? Lea Grover, "We Don’t Play With Our Vulvas At The Table" (via themindislimitless)