The Miracle Of Not Having To Talk About Oneself
theme by nee-d; detail applapacia.

welcometoroseannadu:

my mood for the night: stop romanticizing romance lmao


"Practicing"

boybitch:

by Marie Howe


I want to write a love poem for the girls I kissed in seventh grade,
a song for what we did on the floor in the basement

of somebody’s parents’ house, a hymn for what we didn’t say but thought:
That feels good or I like that, when we learned how to open each others’ mouths

how to move our tongues to make somebody moan. We called it practicing, and
one was the boy, and we paired off – maybe six or eight girls – and turned out

the lights and kissed and kissed until we were stoned on kisses, and lifted our
nightgowns or let the straps drop, and Now you be the boy.

Concrete floor, sleeping bag or couch, playroom, game room, train room, laundry.
Linda’s basement was like a boat with booths and portholes

instead of windows. Gloria’s father had a bar downstairs with stools that spun,
plush carpeting. We kissed each other’s throats.

We sucked each others’ breasts, and we left marks, and never spoke of it upstairs
outdoors, in daylight, not once. We did it, and it was

practicing, and slept, sprawled so our legs still locked or crossed, a hand still lost
in someone’s hair … and we grew up and hardly mentioned who

the first kiss really was — a girl like us, still sticky with the moisturizer we’d
shared in the bathroom. I want to write a song

for that thick silence in the dark, and the first pure thrill of unreluctant desire
just before we made ourselves stop.

(via engenderandendear)


“I am not Mike Brown. I am white. I am middle class. I am female. I am small. I am not considered a threat. When police see me they see someone who looks like them. They see their mothers, their daughters, their sisters, themselves. I am not at risk of being shot by police for existing while black. I am not at risk of being shot while unarmed. I am not at risk of being shot while armed with nothing more than a BB gun. I am not at risk of being shot for reaching for my wallet. I am privileged.
But I am outraged. And if you aren’t outraged, then you aren’t paying attention. This is America in 2014. This is our reality. It’s so easy to get jaded and to ignore these atrocities, to act like this doesn’t affect us. It’s so easy to get apathetic. In the past it was the youth who protested. Where is the rage of the youth? Where is our rage?
Like I said, I am not Mike Brown. But I am outraged.”

Netflix, I don’t even know how to feel about this question


The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found
A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,
Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world
Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.
The first day after a death, the new absence
Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind
While there is still time.

~ Philip Larkin, The Mower (via fishingboatproceeds)

klugthethug replied to your photo:Apparently I can’t be trusted to recommend happy…

what movie?

Frances Ha.  It’s on Netflix and it’s about best friends and you would like it!


thedeathoftheauthor:

i-contain-multitudes:

New coworker I’m supposed to be helping train has told me twice in two days that he isn’t asking questions (about working in our database which is old and incredibly temperamental and has very little margin for error) when he needs to because he’s a man and “men just work through problems by trial and error and figure it out for themselves” ummmmmmmmm

I wasn’t aware being a man was an excuse for not learning to do your fucking job?

how do i do that thing where i copy/pasta your tags? bc they were great.

#i’m a woman so i’m replacing my computer with an oven bc it’s 1954 and we are all beholden to gender-based stereotypes  

Self-reblogging just for you, KB <3


overtheedgeandoveragain:

Holland, 1945 - Neutral Milk Hotel


But now we must pick up every piece
Of the life we used to love
Just to keep ourselves
At least enough to carry on