Posting what I like. Prone to anime, video games, vintage, animals, indie art, long text posts, short text posts, and general sporadic nonsense.
Also I tag the crap out of everything.
Also this is a personal blog so expect personal things.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Reading Shiva’s Fire by Suzanne Fisher Staples.
This is insanity.
CREDS: architizer:
The mind-bending sculptures of Jonty Hurwirtz
2008 | Copper and Chrome
2009-2010 | Resin, Powder and Steel
Mimimimimimimi
(Source: futurepredictor)
OMG I just found the hottest boy on tumblr my ovaries omigosh lolololol
Please stop.
Spring in Mt. Fuji
(Source: thesajangnim)
This is JASON FYLES and he goes to my university (Newcastle University, North East of England) He is 19 years old, 5’8, ginger hair and slim. He was last seen in the Sandyford area at 2:45am on Thursday morning and has not been seen since. He was wearing a blue shirt, grey cardigan, beige chinos and brown ankle boots. Everyone in uni is so worried about him along with his family and friends. We are coming together as a university to appeal for his safe return. It is thought that he lost his friends on the night out and tried to make his way back by himself. Please, I am begging for you to REBLOG THIS, even if you don’t live in Newcastle, or England. Every REBLOG means that someone else will see his face, they will know who we are looking for, and your followers could be the one to know his whereabouts. Stay safe Jason, we’re looking for you.
THIS WILL NOT RUIN YOUR BLOG!PLEASE. Nobody reblogged my own post on this which I posted an hour or so ago so I’m wondering if nobody will now. This guy is my friend. If I have ever sent you a nice ask or reblogged something of yours and it made you happy for a second (or even if I haven’t; this is about helping him, not doing me a favour) for God’s sake just help now, help to find my friend Jason. You want me to make him human to you?
- Once we all grew beans in pots as part of a Biology experiment- the experiment failed miserably and made the whole lab stink, but his was the only bean that grew and he was actually pretty proud about it
- He learned to knit as part of a school project where he had to learn a creative skill, and when a couple of people teased him about it he said “gender is a social construct” and carried on knitting like a badass
- He loves the scene in The Great Gatsby where Gatsby throws all his silk shirts around and he and I used to giggle over it together
- Once I asked him if he had a string of tinsel I could use in a photoshoot and he brought me a big cardboard box full of tinsel and fairy lights because he’s a helpful and lovely guy
He’s HUMAN and he needs our HELP and just PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING REBLOG THIS??? He’s been missing for four days now- when he went missing he would have been wearing his contact lenses and he won’t have had his (very thick) glasses with him so by now he’ll have had to take his contacts out and throw them away and he won’t be able to see well and oh God just please signal boost this
This is my city so yeah.
Oddish by request.
Today’s a day for me to spend with my books.
you’re welcome
fuckign finally thank u friend
This little company from Kenya makes toys from slippers that wash up on the beach. Pictures by Ben Curtis
How glorious is this?! Upcycling at its finest…
I have a couple bracelets made from the same stuff! yay
The company’s name is Ocean Sole: http://www.ocean-sole.com/
There is joy in the intimate curve
of the remembered elbow, in the invisible
pointed angle of the toe. That is why
we have no eyelids, why we
will always stare at the horizon till day
burns into blue night-ash.
Our porcelain bodies cannot
know pain, our ink hair
cannot thin into greyness. See
how we prance across the floor,
the eternal magenta tiles
you dreamed into being. How we polish them
with our calm breath. See how we smile.
Who says we miss
our absent limbs? We know
they are with us, like stars
in the blind day, like the palace minarets
the traveler in a painting never sees
because they are behind the mountain,
like the flute-noises balancing
light as dust
on the dark air of this banquet hall
after we have gone.
Leaving Yuba City, “The Maimed Dancing Man,” Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
When you put on the mask the thunder starts.
Through the nostril’s orange you can smell
the far hope of rain. Up in the Nilgiris,
glisten of eucalyptus, drip of pine, spiders tumbling
from their silver webs.
The mask is raw and red as bark against your face bones.
You finger the stripes ridged like weals
out of your childhood. A wind is rising
in the north, a scarlet light
like a fire in the sky.
When you look through the eyeholes it is like falling.
Night gauzes you in black. You are blind
as in the beginning of the world. Sniff. Seek the moon.
After a while you will know
that creased musky smell is rising
from your skin.
Once you locate the ears the drums begin.
Your fur stiffens. A roar from your distant left,
like monsoon water. The air is hotter now
and moving. You swivel your sightless head.
Under your sheathed paw
the ground shifts wet.
What is that wild sound
sheltering in your skull
against the circle that always closes in
just before dawn?
Leaving Yuba City, “Tiger Mask Ritual” by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
Reading Leaving Yuba City by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.
So, I paint my nails pretty regularly these days. I also work as a barista/cashier pretty regularly these days. A few weeks back, I had a customer come in, a fairly typical, sheltered, suburban soccer mom, and she ordered a latte from me. She saw my brightly colored nails and said, “Wow, you’re so brave! My son asked me about painting his nails, and if it’s okay for boys to do that. Now I’ll tell him there’s a cool guy who does it too!” It was a nice moment, very cute.
Then, last week, she came in again, and said, “Hey, I’m so glad you’re here! I want you to meet someone!” She then brings her son forward, and says, “Okay sweetie, show him what you did!” And he throws his hands up, showing off his bright, sparkling blue nails. He shows them off, and I show mine off to him. He smiles. We fist bump.
Guys, I’ve only wanted to cry once at work before, and that was when someone ordered a large dry soy cappuccino on ice.
This time, though. This was a good cry.
