February 2011
147 posts
Listen
emmacherry:
stillmank:
Why
because we are only a handful of miracles, composed of sideways similes that creep into dusk-washed smiles and linger, with hands for commas, waiting for that hour when continents collide.
because we are only of what “of” was made of - symbols for things we can’t dispose of, approve of, or live off of, or make love to - language: a prison we...
January 2011
336 posts
Why
This has been one of the best nights of my life. Watching Dismemberment Plan play songs that helped me get through growing up has been something truly special. Especially because I never thought it would happen. They have inspired me in several ways, but tonight they have reminded me what I must continue to do: question and grow. Because, this is my life, and it’s gonna be good.
I’ll carry all of your sorrow,
If you’ll carry mine.
forlanguage:
Half of Two Times Two [New Version]...
[edit and repost]
I have this strange relationship with the scratching coming from the inside of my walls. We both stop to listen to each other as we screech and crawl. When we’re apart we begin to question if we were ever even there at all
j-devine:
Hearing politicians reference ‘the Lord’ really makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want your fantasies in charge of my government, no thank you.
today is depeche mode day
johnisdead:
tonight is depeche mode night
[in my world, everyday, is depeche mode day.]
Finally got my 8tracks name changed to stillmank.
I have this strange relationship with the scratching coming from the inside of my walls. We both stop to listen to each other as we screech and crawl. When we’re apart we begin to question if we were even there in the first place.
This is my friend Max and I. We used to make music...
Tonight, I am seeing The Dismemberment Plan and then dying.
[I am finite.]
Anonymous asked: what/who are some of your favorite tumblr blogs/writers?
Listen
Sleeping in my flannel, fuck it, good night.
The more I reblog, the more boring I feel.
Listen
I’m about to finish reading Journey to Ixtlan by Carlos Castaneda. Next up: Doctor Faustus by Thomas Mann The White Hotel By D.M. Thomas Hopscotch by Julio Cortazar Any other recommendations?
paranoiaormagic asked: i was wondering where your tumblr went, just letting you know
[this one is for you]
silverfoxes:
“Angry, and half in love… and tremendously sorry, I turned away.”
— The Great Gatsby
skybarn:
Jesus fucking Christ did you realize that a black guy is President? I mean holy shit. That’s pretty amazing shit right there.
“Starting this year, no American will be forbidden from serving the country they...”
– President Obama, SOTU. (via thedailywhat)
I am addicted to music.
emmacherry:
parannoyed, because the way words fill life seems faintly half-hearted and all we ever wanted was to embrace the soft-syllabled language that rolls off the tip of the tongue like white-caps near Long Island. but the half-life of a paragraph decays at startling speeds , and with bated breath I ran my hands along your sideways scrawl.
all my words: misspelled misplaced mistaken and missed were all trying to say, that your body makes my body a furnace.
beauty is a place where every touch becomes a vision, displacing all the world for just a moment.
Never giving up is difficult when there is nothing to give up anyway.
What of it? Cities built only to be destroyed, love made only to be lost, life lived only to be forgotten. What of it? What is there to make in the little time given between now and when now is never again?
2 tags
Everything is far off in the distance. All that...
The life style lead by the phrase “Do what you love and fuck all the rest” has never meant as much to me as it does now.
Manhattan bound.
I will find the woman of my dreams here. →
