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

askarsswedishmeatballs:

Skarsgård radiates a similar magnetic energy as he takes off his shoes and sits down on the floor to eat with the team. He nuzzles his face into his photo partner, a baby lamb wearing a blue tie-dye shirt to keep warm during setups. “You’re the cutest!” Skarsgård says, cradling it in his strong arms. Looking her square in the eye, he whispers, “But I just had lamb stew last night.”

I just felt the need to see this again.


sailorfuckshit:

gloomyteens:

this is so sad

i don’t understand why the president is being blamed for gun violence

and not NRA lobbyists who block any attempt at firearms reform


onehundreddollars:

onestarbookreview:

“I’m just not interested in Marxism, feminism, promiscuous sex, and indiscriminate drinking.”

I don’t think anyone could write a better blurb.


“But the best possible thing you can do is get your ass down onto the floor. Write so blazingly good that you can’t be framed. Nobody is going to give you permission to write about your vagina, hon. Nobody is going to give you a thing. You have to give it yourself. You have to tell us what you have to say.

That’s what women writers throughout time have done and it’s what we’ll continue to do. It’s not true that to be “a woman writer means to suffer mercilessly and eventually collapse in a heap of ‘I could have been better than this,’” nor is it true that a “unifying theme is many of their careers ended in suicide” and I strongly encourage you to let go of these beliefs. They are inaccurate and melodramatic and they do not serve you. People of all professions suffer and kill themselves. In spite of various mythologies regarding artists and how psychologically fragile we are, the fact is that occupation is not a top predictor for suicide. Yes, we can rattle off a list of women writers who’ve killed themselves and yes, we may conjecture that their status as women in the societies in which they lived contributed to the depressive and desperate state that caused them to do so. But it isn’t the unifying theme.

You know what is?

How many women wrote beautiful novels and stories and poems and essays and plays and scripts and songs in spite of all the crap they endured. How many of them didn’t collapse in a heap of “I could have been better than this” and instead went right ahead and became better than anyone would have predicted or allowed them to be. The unifying theme is resilience and faith. The unifying theme is being a warrior and a motherfucker. It is not fragility. It’s strength. It’s nerve. And “if your Nerve, deny you –,” as Emily Dickinson wrote, “go above your Nerve.” Writing is hard for every last one of us—straight white men included. Coal mining is harder. Do you think miners stand around all day talking about how hard it is to mine for coal? They do not. They simply dig.

You need to do the same, dear sweet arrogant beautiful crazy talented tortured rising star glowbug. That you’re so bound up about writing tells me that writing is what you’re here to do. And when people are here to do that they almost always tell us something we need to hear. I want to know what you have inside you. I want to see the contours of your second beating heart.”
~

Read this Dear Sugar column for the first time last night. Might have burrowed under covers to have a little cry afterwards. (via dynamofire)

THIS!

(via lauriehalseanderson)

“Besides, nowadays, almost all capable people are terribly afraid of being ridiculous, and are miserable because of it.”
~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov  

1 day ago · 511 notes · reblog
originally stxxz · via stxxz
“It’s still you.
It’s still you.”
~ Margaret Atwood, from Shapechangers In Winter (via violentwavesofemotion)