"a lover of rock-and-roll, a New Yorker, an aesthete, a punk, a sinner, a sometime seeker of enlightenment (and love) (and sex)"

31st August 2014

Post with 1 note

"Nothing’s too good for the man who shot Liberty Valance!"

30th August 2014

Photo reblogged from Очень да! with 1 note

30th August 2014

Quote with 2 notes

The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That’s the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.
— T.H. White, The Once and Future King

Tagged: formative books

29th August 2014

Photo with 3 notes

What are you trying to do to me, Bard?

What are you trying to do to me, Bard?

27th August 2014

Audio post with 1 note

"Mary Hamilton," Joan Baez, from Joan Baez (1960)

This was one of my favorite songs growing up (muse on that one, fuckers); I hadn’t listened to it in maybe ten years, but I did now and it is still great. Listen to it, so that you too can appreciate the masterpiece of six-minute storytelling that is this sad, creepy song.

On another, related note, Oh little did my mother think/ When first she cradled me/The lands I was to travel in/ And the death I was to dee, always struck me as the most fantastic and beautiful thing I had ever heard when I was young. I wanted it to be the opening to some story or other, though I never decided which, that I would write. 

Tagged: Joan BaezMary Hamiltonsongsfolk music

Source: Spotify

27th August 2014


Black Body: Rereading James Baldwin’s “Stranger in the Village” - The New Yorker →

If Leukerbad was his mountain pulpit, the United States was his audience. The remote village gave him a sharper view of what things looked like back home. He was a stranger in Leukerbad, Baldwin wrote, but there was no possibility for blacks to be strangers in the United States, nor for whites to achieve the fantasy of an all-white America purged of blacks. This fantasy about the disposability of black life is a constant in American history. It takes a while to understand that this disposability continues. It takes whites a while to understand it; it takes non-black people of color a while to understand it; and it takes some blacks, whether they’ve always lived in the U.S. or are latecomers like myself, weaned elsewhere on other struggles, a while to understand it. American racism has many moving parts, and has had enough centuries in which to evolve an impressive camouflage. It can hoard its malice in great stillness for a long time, all the while pretending to look the other way.

I find a lot of Teju Cole’s writing maddeningly vague, a complaint I have about some of this, but it’s overall it’s really wonderful. There is something about the story of Americans who leave, because they find American too hard and sad to stay in and to love, and then can’t help looking back that always gets me.

Tagged: James BaldwinTeju Cole

27th August 2014

Photoset reblogged from DRLDeBoer with 24 notes


OUTLANDER (2014) 103 #2 Claire & The Woman of Balnain, in “The Way Out”

Jamie translates Gwyllyn the Bard’s Gàidhlig song into English:

This one is about a man out late, on a fairy hill, on the eve of Samhain, who hears the sound of a woman, singing sad & plaintive, from the very rocks of Hell…

I am a woman of Balnain
The Folk have stolen me over again
(The stones seem to say)
I stood upon the hill and the wind did rise
And the sound of thunder rolled across the land
I placed my hands upon the tallest stone
And traveled to a far distant land
Where I lived for a time among strangers
Who became lovers and friends
But one day, I saw the moon came out
And the wind rose once more
So I touched the stones
And traveled back to my own land
And took up again with the man
I had left behind


26th August 2014

Post with 1 note

Feeling sassy.

23rd August 2014

Photo with 5 notes

My hair looks really good after I’ve had it up all day.

My hair looks really good after I’ve had it up all day.

Tagged: sorrynotsorryGPOY11hours of work give me a break

23rd August 2014

Quote reblogged from he sank beneath your wisdom like a stone with 63,751 notes

There’s no point to a guy yelling, “Hey sexy baby” at me out of the passenger window of a car as it speeds past. Even if I was into creepy misogynists and wanted to give him my number, I couldn’t. The car didn’t even slow down. But that’s okay, because he wasn’t actually hitting on me. The point wasn’t to proposition me or chat me up. The only point was to remind me, and all women, that our bodies are his to stare at, assess, comment on, even touch. “Hey sexy baby” is the first part of a sentence that finishes, “this is your daily message from the patriarchy, reminding you that your body is public property”.

Tagged: This is true.

Source: official-mens-frights-activist