[make no mistake that these villains always get the girl.]
i'm a film student and my life is a b movie which i occasionally cryptically document on tumblr in the interest of expressing my feelings without actually revealing much personal information about myself. enjoy.
p.s. andrew ross mcmahon.
the end.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
![thedailywhat:
Brain Food of the Day: “What have you got in your head?” by Sara Asnaghi: Human brains sculpted from various foods, including chili, hemp seeds, sprinkles, bird food, and bread crumbs.
[cakehead.]](http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lvuasikbz41qzpwi0o1_500.jpg)
Brain Food of the Day: “What have you got in your head?” by Sara Asnaghi: Human brains sculpted from various foods, including chili, hemp seeds, sprinkles, bird food, and bread crumbs.
[cakehead.]
(Source: theworldgetsblurry)
what did the buffalo say when he dropped his kid off at school
bison
One of my favorite pictures ever. A guy on the street in New York took it of Jack and I last night with a giant, gorgeous old camera. When I asked what kind of camera it was, he said “An olllllllld newspaper camera.”
How much of my brain is willfully my own? How much is not a rubber stamp of what I have read and heard and lived?
Sylvia Plath (via zacheser)
(Source: tapingletters)
Why, Hello. // allwehaveistonight.com
There are times when you look around and feel so much for the people around you that you want to say it out loud but words aren’t even necessary, like driving in the snow and singing and this living room and the basement and the music and the movies. You can feel it in this room.
I need to put this here so I never forget.
Honest Question // allwehaveistonight.com
“Literature, real literature, must not be gulped down like some potion which may be good for the heart or good for the brain—the brain, that stomach of the soul. Literature must be taken and broken to bits, pulled apart, squashed—then its lovely reek will be smelt in the hollow of the palm, it will be munched and rolled upon the tongue with relish; then, and only then, its rare flavor will be appreciated at its true worth and the broken and crushed parts will again come together in your mind and disclose the beauty of a unity to which you have contributed something of your own blood.” ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lectures on Russian Literature
(Source: bookmania)
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
Oriah Mountain Dreamer (via chaotique)
(Source: blua)
(via thecherryblossomgirl)
