Margaret Ely Webb.

Margaret Ely Webb.

(via bigdrunkgay)

I have too much energy to write an art history paper.

(Source: ozkar-krapo, via deeely)


Mary Cassatt, Woman Bathing, 1891.


Mary Cassatt, Woman Bathing, 1891.

(via iveritas)

An Incredible, Stupendous, Eye-Popping Tale About a Totally Normal Kid: Nile Ruff. Queen of the monkey bars. Keeper of the magic crystals. Kid next door. - Washington City Paper

The thing I can most relate to, childhood-wise

"Shall my end be a crown?
Or Saint
Now that the storm of life I’ve tackled,
I’m an equal candidate
for the throne of the universe
and the convict’s shackles.
If I’m destined to become a tsar here,—
my men will be told
to imprint your darling face,
my dear,
onto the nation’s gold.
but, if I end up there,
where the tundra swallows the plains,—
where the North Wind with the river bargains,—
I will scratch Lily’s name all over the chains
and kiss them, laboring in the darkness.
Listen you, who forgot the color of the sky above,
like animals, wallowing in the slush!
in this world, this is perhaps,
the final love
revealing itself in the consumptive’s flush."

Vladimir Mayakovsky, Backbone Flute, 1915 (via adidassler)

(via weeghetti)

I had horrible dreams last night

and it ended with me getting mugged and the guy taking my purse but my purse was full of Philip Roth books and I was kinda like, joke’s on you motherfucker.

Coachella more like coachultural appropriation am I riiight?

(via todayisgreenday)

From the basement

From the basement


A hummingbird flies into a window
that looks like the sky. Everything around here

looks like the sky. The sky looks tiger striped.
They call that kind of cloud

something. I know somebody
who knows about clouds. I could find

out the name. Everything around here
has a name.


The hummingbird fell to the deck. My husband picked it up.

—What did it feel like in your hand?
—Nothing. It felt like nothing.
—Where is it now?
—Not dead. It flew away. It disappeared and it disappeared again.


I’ll tell you a joke. A hummingbird flew into a window…

I’ll tell you another joke. Treachery,
we were friends once.


In dreams the bird
weighs more, so you can feel it

when you pick it up. So when
it dies it seems

like something actually happened.
It’s a word

around your hand and a sign

at the stripped road.
A mylar star on a plastic stick

tied to the sign.
Blacktop. Post. A fat star’s

taut. It’s stuffed.

It’s shining.
There’s going

to be a party around here somewhere.
The bird weighs nothing waits nowhere.

The sky looks like a window and it flies right through."

Tigers  by Melissa Ginsburg

for Erik Lemke (1979-2012)

I yelled “suck it nerds!” and Jen heard me and laughed and that was pretty great.


Holiday in Arnel - dress by Junior Sophisticates designed by Anne Klein 1960


Holiday in Arnel - dress by Junior Sophisticates designed by Anne Klein 1960

Peter Sarstedt – Where Do You Go To (My Lovely) (3,973 plays)

But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Won’t you tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do.

(via twoweeksoflovemaking)

Having people you didn’t know haunt your dreams is very upsetting.