June 2012
30 posts
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shout out to the teenage kids whose expensive phones had to survive without instagram last night. i wish i could say ‘i can only imagine your pain’ but based on the number of whiny tweets and facebook statuses, i gotta say, i think i felt that pain too.
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“If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck...”
– John Waters
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“I hope something happens. I’m restless as the devil and have a horror of getting...”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise (via sea-change)
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unedited thoughts of a potential wayfaring...
I’ve lived in Cambridge for almost an entire year, and in about one week, I board a plane to return to the States.
I’m not generally one for sentimentality. I think it’s overused, which robs it of any power. But every so often, my life comes to head with an End, and my heart presses against my chest and I would sell my soul to escape my own thoughts, if only for a moment.
If I...
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“Yes, Obama duped young people by not doing every single thing they want. So now,...”
– Stephen Colbert (via annemonroe)
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please stop inventing problems
From Pretending You’re Oppressed: The New Internet Fad by Shae McDonovan
I think they all suffer from plain old “being boring” oppression. You know, the kind where you’re dull and you watch too much TV and you feel a desperate need to be cool, different, part of a group. One could almost say that “interesting” people are oppressive, flaunting their interestingness in your face, telling...
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“Corporations aren’t people. People are people.”
– President Obama (via barackobama)
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let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs: why...
oh-you-better-run:
let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs: why shakespeare matters
here’s something i’ve heard rather a lot in the wake of the news of the bbc’s the hollow crown: ‘shakespeare is boring’, ‘shakespeare is hard’, and ‘shakespeare is not for the likes of us.’ and i want to talk about these attitudes, because they are, on the one had, understandable for various education and...
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Pastoral
Eat their own hair, sheep do, nibbling away under the snow, under their bellies— calling it wool makes it no more palatable.
What else is there to do in the big drifts, Forced against a wall of wet stone? But let me have your hair to nibble
before we are in winter; and the thong of dark seeds you wear at your neck; and for my tongue the salt on your skin to gobble.
(Fleur Adcock)
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