chordorganblues replied to your post: I wish I was in love with someone.

you’ll get there boy :)

I don’t think it’s a matter of getting there, I think it just happens.

mechcanuck:

slumberblues:

siphersaysstuff:

WHY WAS THIS NOT IN THE FINAL CUT.

Or even the Special Editions. This is GREAT.

C3PO YOU FUCKER

I have a new favorite Star Wars moment.

secondlina:

One of my favorite fairy tale figures is Baba Yaga, an old witch who lives in an enchanted forest, rides a mortar instead of a broom, lives in a house with chicken legs and usually has three magical sons. I have an obsession with witches in general, but something about this old Russian spell caster really captures my imagination. 

I think one day i’d like to write about the adventures of her youth. How she became powerful and delightfully evil (although she is good in a couple of tales). So, here you go, young Baba Yaga (who would have a different name, since Baba means old woman. Maybe just Yaga?).

I grew up with Baba Yaga stories and have written my own. She is the best for stories.

cognitivedissonance:

lemondifficult:

bidenette:

Le boom.

Oh snap

The White House is so sassy.

tastefullyoffensive:

[via]

survivingcanberra:

So I’ve gone over this poem a thousand times now, and I still don’t think it’s very good, but I can’t bring myself to dick around with it any further.

I would also like to apologize to my dear friend for all of the awful punctuation to be found in it.

But without further adieu, this is “Were Words” a poem about Raphael Kabo <3 

 

When I was seventeen

I met a boy named Alexander

He was an awkward sweet sixteen

Angsty teenage dreamer

Who wrote bad puns

And poetry

In my textbooks

When he sat next to me

In philosophy.

 

We crashed into each other

Like only teenagers do

Like a car crash,

100% fatal.

We became those little parts

Hidden inside each other,

Those secret

Persecution complex

Pieces

That we could never share

Outside of our

Two-person canvas.

 

Over the days and weeks

And years and tears

And tears,

The moves the changes

The discoveries of love and life and art

We didn’t grow apart

But so much closer,

Despite the fact he kept getting further

Away from me;

With his star bright ambitions

Shining and shimmering

revealing

His talent for talentedness.

 

Our lives now seemingly

Headed in directions

So far removed from

Where we started,

He tore himself out of me

And left dreary Canberra

For the evocative placenames

Of London.

 

He didn’t actually leave me

Not really,

At least not completely

Because in all my empty places

He left me tomes of poetry.

 

And if words were memories

He left me with overproof rum

And Blackadder.

He left me with Russian Spy

Satellites disguised as black swans.

 He left me walking the street of Sydney

At 3am

After watching Amanda Fucking Palmer

Make love to her ukulele

On our table

In her underwear.

 

If words were blankets

Then he left me with enough

To last me

(And the people sleeping

In Civic)

The biting winter

Of Canberra weather.

 

If words were flowers

I would have enough

To fill the Arboretum

And cover this city

In petals for the next

Hundred years.

 

If words were steel

My friend would be a master armourer.

Hammering his paper anvil

With the keys of his typewriter.

Forging fantasy in the flames,

Austenized with dreams

And quenched in spilled ink.

Creating worlds worth wearing

Into the battle of life.

Ironically I feel like, after this, words are insufficient to describe my feelings. So:

bluejuniata:

six-year-old-girl student: hannah, there is a problem that i can’t talk to you about.
hannah: why not?
student: you just wouldn’t understand.
hannah: what makes you think i won’t understand?
student: well, it’s just…see…i am only six years old but i know how to act like a lady. i sit like a lady and i wear dresses and i know how to cook and do dishes and bake cakes. and you, weeeelllll….
hannah: and me what?
student: well…it’s just…YOU ACT LIKE A BOY!!!!
hannah: i act like a boy??
student: you talk like a boy!
hannah: how do boys talk?
student: and you only wear jeans!!
hannah: everybody is allowed to wear jeans!
student: and you sit like a boy! ladies don’t sit like that!
hannah: well, here’s the thing. acting like a lady is super fun! and i do all my own cooking and i do all my own dishes and i bake pretty good cakes, okay? and at my other job i wear dresses and i sit like a lady all the time. but you know what? sometimes i don’t feel like acting like a lady. and that’s okay! girls can act however they want!
student: oh.
student: can i tell you a secret?
hannah: of course you can.
student: [whispers] sometimes i like my brother’s toys more than i like my toys
hannah: that’s awesome! you’re allowed to like anything you like. what do you like about them?
student: i like scooby!
hannah: SCOOBY IS FOR EVERYONE.

swanjolras:

also: after the ap euro multiple choice section i made designs for the second wave of romantic writers as the world’s most popular emo-folk-punk-indie-pop boy band (and mary godwin), The Romantics

introducing: george gordon byron

• “the bad boy”
• dark and tortured soul
• once had a hot makeout session with selena gomez
• once had a hot makeout session with literally everyone
• lead singer
• wears too much guyliner
• (it’s funny because there’s no such thing as too much guyliner)

percy shelley

• “the cute one”
• writes all the songs about happy things and sad things and cute things and kissing girls that get on the radio the most
• plays bass guitar
• is the most peppy and enthusiastic when they make the video diaries
• dating mary so fucking hard

john keats

• “the dreamy one”
• plays the piano
• has dark and tragic past
• was really polite to ellen degeneres when they went on her show

and mary godwin

• “the drummer”
• so done with all this shit
• can also play the accordion, the violin, the flute, the cello, the trombone, the xylophone, and the motherfucking mandolin
• writes all the songs about sea monsters and irish legends and zombies that appeal to the hipster fans
• seventeen magazine has repeatedly said that she is a lesbian
• she’s not a lesbian
• she did think ellen degeneres was pretty hot, but
• she’s dating percy shelley
• no, really, seventeen, she’s dating percy shelley, he’s taken.
• how the fuck did you not think he was taken.
• she fucking made out with him on stage.
• (to be fair, so did byron)