(via theremina)
[video]
I want to possess all the articulate I can, because otherwise there we will be, in non-designer clothes, no longer even on TrendSetters & TasteMakers gum cards with our photos on them, and I will turn to her and say, Honey, uh, honey, there is a certain feeling but I cannot name it and cannot cite a precedent-type feeling, but trust me, dearest, wow, do I ever feel it for you, right now. And what will that be like, that stupid standing there, just a man and a woman and the wind, and nobody knowing what nobody is meaning
This is a beautiful short story. It seems so well-paced to me (in as much as the story unfurls slowly and wonderfully and well.) But what do I know.
Adventures in copyright-law.
A few nights ago I dreamt I was walking on an empty, infinite plane with a phone with no credit. Shane kept texting me inane details from his life and I couldn’t text him back to tell him to stop. This went on and on as I walked over the infinite, flat plane.
It was very annoying.
I’m migrating my various domains away from GoDaddy. Anyone have any recommendations for a decent replacement?
(via morrowplanet)
Leaving the prairies. Shit’s flat, son.
(Source: wasntthatfun)
The wonderful CK/CK shared this photograph, taken near London in November of 1942. Breaking between missions flying machines less sophisticated than a contemporary car in a war of annihilation with a nearby and superior enemy, a pilot breaks for a haircut, reading, and a pipe. The insistence on the accouterments of culture, on leisure —the book and pipe, of course, but also the nearly formal attire of the barber and the pattern of the sheet wrapped around his shoulders— seems so British, so laudable, so impossible to imagine today for innumerable reasons one hardly has the energy even to consider.
Hey Tumblr?
Following ⇒ Users ⇒ Turn Off Reblogs For This Person.
Please?
Thanks,
Ryan
Moustache App icon design
[video]
NO. BAD LUCKYSHIRT. NO.
(Source: luckyshirt)