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thechristahope:

DOPE

i concur.

anyone feel like getting me a just because gift?

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(via xxlilithvampxx)

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under-radar-mag:

Sigur Rós’ seventh full-length starts with amiasma of thunderous crashes. A year later and one member fewer than the paper-thin whisper that was previous album Valtari, it’s almost as if the Icelandic trio is making up for lost time with sheer volume. (Either that or frontman Jónsi Birgisson’s metalhead roots are finally starting to show.) (via Sigur Rós: Kveikur (XL) | Under The Radar)

this album is fucking rad, by the way.

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independent-thought-alarm:

Looking at you, Guzman.

people know me.

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citylightsbooks:

I’m Not a Man

I’m not a man. I can’t earn a living, buy new things for my

family. I have acne and a small peter

I’m not a man. I don’t like football, boxing and cars.

I like to express my feelings. I even like to put an arm

around my friend’s shoulder.

I’m not a man. I won’t play the role assigned to me—the role

created by Madison Avenue, Playboy, Hollywood and Oliver Cromwell.

Television does not dictate my behavior. I am under 5 foot 4.

I’m not a man. Once when I shot a squirrel I swore that I would

never kill again. I gave up meat. The sight of blood makes me

sick. I like flowers.

I’m not a man. I went to prison resisting the draft. I do not

fight back when real men beat me up and call me queer. I dislike

violence.

I’m not a man. I have never raped a woman. I don’t hate blacks.

I do not get emotional when the flag is waved. I do not think

I should love America or leave it. I think I should laugh at it.

I’m not a man. I have never had the clap.

I’m not a man. Playboy is not my favorite magazine.

I’m not a man. I cry when I’m unhappy.

I’m not a man. I do not feel superior to women.

I’m not a man. I don’t wear a jockstrap.

I’m not a man. I write poetry.

I’m not a man. I meditate on peace and love.

I’m not a man. I don’t want to destroy you.

—Harold Norse, San Francisco 1972

(via maggie--cassidy)

babyafrican:

Animals Without Necks

that cat is positively oozing with swagger.

(via purplevomitfluxfluid)

maggie—cassidy:

Lady Lamb The Beekeeper - “Up In The Rafters”

“I want to love you like the monster loves a flower

Disarming as a bird flying backwards

And my heart is a pomegranate

And how long have I ached for your hands on my stomach?

I want to love you like the monster loves the flower

Tenderly

I want to know you like the clock knows the hour

I want to see you with both my eyes forward

In the fields of rye and up in the rafters

Hungrily

And oh to know the nape of your neck;

It would be the length of my whole self

To swoon if for to stretch beneath a fleshy ground

Peacefully

Into a blood red sea

In the wax of a whale

Meet me down there, deep down

Where I am dark and pale

This longing I inherit, how it makes me shameful

This armor how I wear it till I can no longer

And all the while in your blue so sallow

As bitter as the snake that craftily crallows

On the cracked tongue of the quake in the shadows

Silently

I am a ribcage, I’m a sailor, I’m an arrow

I am a monster with the wings of a blind sparrow

And I want to touch you like the seed touches the soil

I want to hold you like the milk holds the spoil

Sing to me

Cling to me

And what of this cacophonous – these broken strings?

And what of this, the blood red kiss, the beast in the sea?

I’ll hush it now and I will sing it songs to put it to sleep

And leave it there without a care that it might know a dream.”

intennnnse.

diggin it.

dope body - road dog

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loopz.