CAMPS

IN WHICH I PROVE TO YOU HOW VERY INTERESTING I AM

Who drinks your tears, who has your wings, who tells your story? The Sunday Rumpus Essay: Casa Azul Cripple by Emily Rapp. (via therumpus)

(via therumpus)

What if

You had the best day of your professional career and no one to share it with?

when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved
Antilamentation by Dorianne Laux | The Writer’s Almanac with Garrison Keillor

(Source: thvndermag, via chadwys)

On the pool table I said, “Uh, no you’re not,” in a voice that wasn’t my own but borrowed from Claire Standish, Brenda Walsh, or Some Kind of Wonderful. I broke his hold and left. I don’t remember saying anything else as I walked out, or in school the next day, or when he called or when he wrote. I remember holding my silence up as a wall to keep out… what? Behind The Caves - The Rumpus.net
paulander:

Manuele Fior: big storm coming to Bogotá. September 2014.

paulander:

Manuele Fior: big storm coming to Bogotá. September 2014.

justmorelli:

From Henry and June — Anaïs Nin

justmorelli:

From Henry and June — Anaïs Nin

(via agrammar)

Today

Today is terrible. Today is not enough weekend. Not enough sleep. Too much wine. Anger. Madness. Impetuosity. Banging fists on keyboard. Slapping pillows. Coffee. Aleve. No, I’m not picking up the stuff on the floor. Doing the dishes. Or anything else. I’m a child. I’m throwing a fit. By myself.

defendneworleans:

#isitmardigrasyet #monday

defendneworleans:

#isitmardigrasyet #monday