Things I Do Not Understand And Definitely Am Not Going To Talk About

thingsidontunderstandand:

  • Same as it ever was.
  • Same as it ever was.
  • Same as it ever was.
  • Same as it ever was.
  • Same as it ever was.
  • Same as it ever was.
  • Same as it ever was.
  • Same as it ever was.
  • (More than once in a lifetime, actually.)

visual-poetry: “note to self” by michael hainey

visual-poetry:

“note to self” by michael hainey

let us be unfettered–

mahogany marmalade

He was not coming back – she had reached that conclusion months ago. But in the midst of it all, the unyielding possibility that his coarse mahogany boots would dribble against the floor and she would be sitting on the couch – that she had bought before him – waiting for him, she decided it was better to keep the jar of marmalade half-eaten, in case he returned.

I realized since trying to hone down my musical tastes and preferences; I gravitate toward deep, male voices – generally with a falsetto. I don’t know why; it’s almost a comfort factor, and also I just find deep voices incredibly sexy. Tunde joins the rank of Matt Berninger (of The National), Nic Dawson Kelly, Antony Hegarty and of course, Justin Vernon as my top male voices.

Unknown Legend, by Neil Young, covered by Tunde Adebimpe of TVOTR

Someone flashy walks into your life and you’re just gonna fall for it. Now … it doesn’t work like that there are other steps complicated.

Beginners (2011)

No Spark

Well,

we tried.

A thousand times, yes.

Sidney Poitier in To Sir With Love (1967)

I don’t know his name. I want to know his name.

Go to your room, turn off all the lights, grab your headphones and listen to this song.

Fuck them is what I say. I hate those e-books. They cannot be the future. They may well be. I will be dead. I won’t give a shit.

Renowned children’s book author MAURICE SENDAK, telling us how he really feels, on The Colbert Report. (via inothernews

I have never loved a children’s author more.

(via wired)

(via wired)

cavetocanvas:

Eric Fischl, Hysterics of Love, 1997

My Monday Night: Sitting in a Newhouse booth, no one in sight, tearing up over a blog post that a stranger wrote. I feel ridiculous.

Even the smartest and most active of Russia’s current twentysomethings matured into a world of total political apathy, where any kind of enthusiasm for the business of governance was seen as either extremely naïve or cynical. Many sublimated whatever civic urges they had into the so-called theory of small deeds.

The New Decemberists, Russia’s 20-something journalist revolutionaries

A Scenario:

A, who, still in love with B, decides C is the better, ‘now.’ B, no longer in love with A – probably never has been – comes to the conclusion that D, is the better choice. D is not. D is mentally fucked up. D is partially wounded. B and D conclude regretfully. A and C continue on.

You are A.

You are B.

You are C.

You are D.

Journalist & occasional poet. www.twitter.com/aprilmayparker