of all the wonders

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Mon, 15 Apr 2013 00:14:35 -0400

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Thu, 04 Apr 2013 18:13:13 -0400

Instagram

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 12:09:30 -0400

tflaggw

Obama wins Romney home state of Massachusetts

Tue, 06 Nov 2012 22:43:47 -0500

gop-circus:

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Tue, 16 Oct 2012 09:10:50 -0400

everythingfrank0cean: specialmenu: Arcade Pyramid by Eva van...

Mon, 08 Oct 2012 01:32:39 -0400

everythingfrank0cean:

specialmenu:

Arcade Pyramid by Eva van Someren.

Pyramid Copic session. Not really my usual style, buh i was just having some fun with my Copics.

Awesome concept!!! Best thing I’ve seen all day!!!! I love it

"（︶︿︶）╭∩╮"

Tue, 25 Sep 2012 02:57:12 -0400

““（︶︿︶）╭∩╮””

- M.I.A.

Audio

Mon, 24 Sep 2012 23:57:04 -0400

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Mon, 24 Sep 2012 01:16:37 -0400

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Sun, 23 Sep 2012 10:56:00 -0400

tinytomtime: I must have walked by this a hundred times and I...

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 14:36:05 -0400

tinytomtime:

I must have walked by this a hundred times and I only noticed it today

...

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 02:37:00 -0400

this album inspires me.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 01:41:28 -0400

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
     A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
     Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
     Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
     Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
     Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
     So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
     And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
     And should I then presume?
     And how should I begin?

          … . .

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

          … . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep… tired… or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
     Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
     That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
     ”That is not it at all,
     That is not what I meant, at all.”

          … . .

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Maybe I’m strongBut I breakI’m stubbornAnd I make plenty of mistakesYeah I’m...

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 01:34:55 -0400

Maybe

I’m strong
But I break
I’m stubborn
And I make plenty of mistakes
Yeah I’m hard
And life with me is never easy
To figure out, to love
I’m jaded but oh so lovely
All you have to do is hold me
And you’ll know and you’ll see just how sweet it can be
If you’ll trust me, love me, let me
Maybe, maybe

Someday
When we’re at the same place
When we’re on the same road
When it’s OK to hold my hand
Without feeling lost
Without all the excuses
When it’s just because you love me, you let me, you need me
Then maybe, maybe
All you have to do is hold me
And you’ll know and you’ll see just how sweet it can be
If you’ll trust me, love me, let me
Maybe, maybe

I’m confusing as hell
I’m north and south
And I’ll probably never have it all figured out
But what I know is I wasn’t meant to walk this world without you
And I promise I’ll try
Yeah I’m gonna try to give you every little part of me
Every single detail you missed with your eyes
Then maybe
Maybe, yeah maybe

One day
We’ll meet again and you’ll need me, you’ll see me completely
Every little bit
Oh yeah maybe you’ll love me, you’ll love me then

I don’t want to be tough
And I don’t want to be proud
I don’t need to be fixed and I certainly don’t need to be found
I’m not lost
I need to be loved
I just need to be loved
I just want to be loved by you and I won’t stop ‘cause I believe
That maybe, yeah maybe
Maybe, yeah maybe

I should know better than to touch the fire twice
But I’m thinking maybe, yeah maybe you’re mine

Maybe, love maybe

Photo

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 00:01:54 -0400

"Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square..."

Fri, 21 Sep 2012 02:40:58 -0400

““Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.””

- apple

it must be a liberating thing to not be cursed with a moral compass.

Fri, 21 Sep 2012 01:34:55 -0400

it must be a liberating thing to not be cursed with a moral compass.

All day, everyday

Fri, 21 Sep 2012 01:29:44 -0400

All day, everyday

do you ever wish you could go super saiyan?

Fri, 21 Sep 2012 01:01:27 -0400

do you ever wish you could go super saiyan?

pay attention

Fri, 21 Sep 2012 00:42:25 -0400

pay attention

of all the wonders

Photo

Photo

Instagram

Obama wins Romney home state of Massachusetts

Photo

everythingfrank0cean: specialmenu: Arcade Pyramid by Eva van...

"（︶︿︶）╭∩╮﻿"

Audio

Photo

Photo

tinytomtime: I must have walked by this a hundred times and I...

...

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Maybe I’m strongBut I breakI’m stubbornAnd I make plenty of mistakesYeah I’m...

Photo

"Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square..."

it must be a liberating thing to not be cursed with a moral compass.

All day, everyday

do you ever wish you could go super saiyan?

pay attention

"（︶︿︶）╭∩╮"