She Said Clud

GODDAMNIT JACE!

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Edgar Allan Poe (via the-codswallopthoughts)
Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won’t either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning. You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart. You are here to be swallowed up. And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, let yourself sit by an apple tree and listen to the apples falling all around you in heaps, wasting their sweetness. Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.
Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum LP (via odaro)
anasaltukhaifi:

Umbrellas Street, Portugal.

anasaltukhaifi:

Umbrellas Street, Portugal.

Billy Joel - We Didn't Start the Fire
113,977 plays

god-particle:

someassemblingrequired:

yonkobe:

the-vashta-nerada:

andrewbaggott:

Billy Joel - We Didn’t Start The Fire

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray, South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio, Joe McCarthy, Richard Nixon, Studebaker, Television, North Korea South Korea, Marilyn Monroe, Rosenbergs, H-Bomb, Sugar Ray, Panmunjom, Brando, The King and I, The Catcher in the Rye, Eisenhowervaccine, England’s got a new queen, Marciano, Liberace, Santayana goodbye

Joseph Stalin, Malenkov, Nasser, Prokofiev, Rockefeller, Campanella, Communist bloc, Roy Cohn, Juan Perón, Toscanini, Dacron, Dien Bien Phu falls, Rock Around the Clock, Einstein, James Dean, Brooklyn’s got a winning team, Davy Crockett, Peter Pan, ElvisPresley, Disneyland, Bardot, Budapest, Alabama, Khrushchev, Princess Grace, Peyton Place, Trouble in the Suez

Little Rock, Pasternak, Mickey Mantle, Kerouac, Sputnik, Chou En-Lai, Bridge on the River Kwai, Lebanon, Charles de Gaulle, California, Baseball, Starkweather homicides, Children of Thalidomide, Buddy Holly, Ben-Hur, Space Monkey, Mafia, Hula hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go, U-2, Syngman Rhee, Payola, Kennedy, Chubby Checker, Psycho, Belgians in the Congo

Hemingway, EichmannStranger in a Strange Land, Dylan, Berlin, Bay of Pigs Invasion, Lawrence of Arabia, British Beatlemania, Ole’ Miss, John Glenn, Liston beats Patterson, Pope Paul, Malcolm X, British politician sex, JFK, blown away! What else do I have to say?

Birth control, Ho Chi Minh, Richard Nixon back again, Moonshot, Woodstock, Watergate, Punkrock, Begin, Reagan, Palestine, Terror on the airline, Ayatollah’s in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan, Wheel of Fortune, Sally Ride, Heavy metal suicide, Foreign debts, Homeless vets, AIDS, Crack, Bernie Goetz, Hypodermics on the shore, China’s under martial law, Rock-and-roller cola wars

Are you kidding me? This is perfection. 
Educate yourselves, buckos.  

WHAT A GREAT POST

Wh…

this is the most beautiful of all posts

one of my fave songs, will always know all the words

undefeatedfighter:

Love Jon Stewart.

For women, then, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence. It forms the quality of the light within which we predicate our hopes and dreams toward survival and change, first made into language, then into idea, then into more tangible action. Poetry is the way we help give names to the nameless so it can be thought. THe farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.

As they become known to and accepted by us, our feelings and the honest exploration of them become sanctuaries and spawning grounds for the most radical and daring of ideas. They become a safe-house for that difference so necessary to change and the conceptualization of any meaningful action. Right now, I could name at least ten ideas I would have found intolerable or incomprehensible and frightening, except as they came after dreams and poems. This is not idle fantasy, but a disciplined attention to the true meaning of “it feels right to me.”

from “Poetry is Not a Luxury,” Audre Lorde (via commovente)
In her first official action as our new captain, she admitted that we were totally lost, which everyone knew but the previous captain had been unwilling to admit, and she said that our new destination was home, wherever that might be, and we all agreed that it was as mysterious and noble a pursuit as any, and we all set our sights that way, hoping it would still be there if and when we found it.
Charles Yu, from “Yeoman” in Sorry Please Thank You (via the-final-sentence)
helioscentrifuge:

goldeentail:

i-wonder-whats-for-dinner:

xchickengirlx:

clavid:

Is Mario ok

Mario is reflecting on life. Wondering why there is so much fighting and bloodshed. Having to fight people like his brother and lover on the battlefield, and getting his ass handed to him on a regular basis
It’s too much.  His spirit has broken

this is it this is my favorite post on all of tumblr nothing will ever defeat this post

why is peach orange

that’s daisy you fucking heretic

helioscentrifuge:

goldeentail:

i-wonder-whats-for-dinner:

xchickengirlx:

clavid:

Is Mario ok

Mario is reflecting on life. Wondering why there is so much fighting and bloodshed. Having to fight people like his brother and lover on the battlefield, and getting his ass handed to him on a regular basis

It’s too much.  His spirit has broken

this is it this is my favorite post on all of tumblr nothing will ever defeat this post

why is peach orange

that’s daisy you fucking heretic

More than putting another man on the moon,
more than a New Year’s resolution of yogurt and yoga,
we need the opportunity to dance
with really exquisite strangers. A slow dance
between the couch and dinning room table, at the end
of the party, while the person we love has gone
to bring the car around
because it’s begun to rain and would break their heart
if any part of us got wet. A slow dance
to bring the evening home, to knock it out of the park. Two people
rocking back and forth like a buoy. Nothing extravagant.
A little music. An empty bottle of whiskey.
It’s a little like cheating. Your head resting
on his shoulder, your breath moving up his neck.
Your hands along her spine. Her hips
unfolding like a cotton napkin
and you begin to think about how all the stars in the sky
are dead. The my body
is talking to your body slow dance. The Unchained Melody,
Stairway to Heaven, power-cord slow dance. All my life
I’ve made mistakes. Small
and cruel. I made my plans.
I never arrived. I ate my food. I drank my wine.
The slow dance doesn’t care. It’s all kindness like children
before they turn four. Like being held in the arms
of my brother. The slow dance of siblings.
Two men in the middle of the room. When I dance with him,
one of my great loves, he is absolutely human,
and when he turns to dip me
or I step on his foot because we are both leading,
I know that one of us will die first and the other will suffer.
The slow dance of what’s to come
and the slow dance of insomnia
pouring across the floor like bath water.
When the woman I’m sleeping with
stands naked in the bathroom,
brushing her teeth, the slow dance of ritual is being spit
into the sink. There is no one to save us
because there is no need to be saved.
I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed
the front yard. When the stranger wearing a shear white dress
covered in a million beads
comes toward me like an over-sexed chandelier suddenly come to life,
I take her hand in mine. I spin her out
and bring her in. This is the almond grove
in the dark slow dance.
It is what we should be doing right now. Scrapping
for joy. The haiku and honey. The orange and orangutang slow dance.
Matthew Dickman, “Slow Dance” (via rustbeltjessie)

kateordie:

I haven’t posted anything lengthy or terribly eloquent on the subject of women in geek culture lately, have I? Have this instead.

To all the Tumblr users who tend to use tags very liberally:

thejadedkiwano:

Let’s play a game.

Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up.

you

also

what

when

why

how

look

because

never

L'Arc-en-ciel - Ready Steady Go
6,071 plays

oradreams:

Ready Steady Go - L’Arc-en-ciel