" Anna Karina (via suspend)

(via vivvid)

thecindercone:

working into the night

(via thatmonstersurfercaptain)

findmomo:

Pretty much stares at me while driving always.

(via thatmonstersurfercaptain)

thelosangeleskings:

Um what’s his name… That one guy, who coached that one team that won in 2012 and 2014… Darn, so hard to remember. Does anyone remember his name?

What if
all women were bigger and stronger than you
and thought they were smarter

What if
women were the ones who started wars

What if
too many of your friends had been raped by women wielding giant dildos
and no K-Y Jelly

What if
the state trooper
who pulled you over on the New Jersey Turnpike
was a woman
and carried a gun

What if
the ability to menstruate
was the prerequisite for most high-paying jobs

What if
your attractiveness to women depended
on the size of your penis

What if
every time women saw you
they’d hoot and make jerking motions with their hands

What if
women were always making jokes
about how ugly penises are
and how bad sperm tastes

What if
you had to explain what’s wrong with your car
to big sweaty women with greasy hands
who stared at your crotch
in a garage where you are surrounded
by posters of naked men with hard-ons

What if
men’s magazines featured cover photos
of 14-year-old boys
with socks
tucked into the front of their jeans
and articles like:
“How to tell if your wife is unfaithful”
or
“What your doctor won’t tell you about your prostate”
or
“The truth about impotence”

What if
the doctor who examined your prostate
was a woman
and called you “Honey”

What if
you had to inhale your boss’s stale cigar breath
as she insisted that sleeping with her
was part of the job

What if
you couldn’t get away because
the company dress code required
you wear shoes
designed to keep you from running

And what if
after all that
women still wanted you
to love them.

"

For the Men Who Still Don’t Get It, written 20 years ago by Carol Diehl. 

She wrote a post about the history of this poem that is worth reading.

(via cracktacular)

(via br0kenn-angel)

cubebreaker:

New York-based artist Kim Keever drops paint into water-filled aquariums to create unpredictable abstract displays of color and form.

(via br0kenn-angel)

danwells:

Hah, okay, ya, chill,

(via thatmonstersurfercaptain)

" What I needed to hear (via exoticwild)

(via br0kenn-angel)

danwells:

Crazy cave on UrAnus

(via thatmonstersurfercaptain)

majesty:

macdaddyc:

i’m done living

Same

(via se-a-breeze)

     I wish I could bleed the way I used to. I’d roll down my blinds, roll up my sleeves, ties back my hair and unzip my veins. Methodical, obsessed. I used to keep my room clean, used to stack books next to my bed so I could read them in my dreams but now they live on shelves, on the other side of my room, their spines don’t face outwards because I never want to know what I’m picking up. Ive stopped reading.
     I sat on the end of a jetty at 2am with a bottle of whiskey I stole out of my parents cabinet and I drank to the sound of your name as it played through my mind, and I spent hours contemplating what would happen if I just stepped off. I remember the blood and I remember watching it swirl in circles down the sink and I remember feeling lightheaded and I remember waking up on the bathroom floor and I had ruined my favourite shirt so I burned it with the letters from him. In my dreams, he kisses my forehead in assured confidence and I let him touch me but now I flinch everytime I see a hand move; I wish I could learn to stop talking.
      I am sitting at the edge of a tombstone with the name engraved that looks like my uncles but it doesn’t have enough life in it anymore and I’m kissing the grass with tears and my mother is worried about me again she follows me around the house but here I am safe and I tell him about the girl I met and I tell him about the songs I hear everytime I think of his name and I tried so hard to fix myself for him that I died when he broke.
     Time passes differently in poetry. Because in real life today I sat on the edge of my shower and kissed the back of my hand and then unzipped my wrists to let out all the anguish that I cant help but feel and I watched as the threads snapped and I laughed out loud and then I fell asleep for three hours and it has nothing to do with you its all in my own mind but I should have warned you that I’m more fucked up than you thought.