a cup of earl grey, please

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Tue, 18 Jun 2013 18:35:36 -0400

seafarers: Before Sunrise by Robart Nikolchev

Mon, 17 Jun 2013 23:10:39 -0400

seafarers:

Before Sunrise by Robart Nikolchev

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Mon, 17 Jun 2013 15:23:14 -0400

timespent: wasbella102: By Oskar Mulley

Sat, 15 Jun 2013 15:56:51 -0400

timespent:

wasbella102:

By Oskar Mulley

my-sin-my-s0ul:

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 13:54:20 -0400

my-sin-my-s0ul:

(Working Draft)

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 02:14:19 -0400

my-sin-my-s0ul:

It was a perfectly average Monday morning. Steam rose from an old grey cup filled with black coffee as my fingers flew over the keyboard, frantically trying to flesh out a description of my loneliness. I’d been writing for several years, and I always felt like I was running out of material. I’d hoped I could play the troubled young twenty-something well into my thirty-somethings, but I was getting tired. As I paused to stare at the screen, my eyes drying, I heard a dull thud at the window. I blinked, and wondered if it was worth turning around. Surely, some poor creature had just met it’s match—the double paned window of my third story apartment. I felt myself instinctively shake my head and crack my knuckles. Before I could continue on whatever angst-ridden dialogue I’d begun, I heard quiet chirping from that window. Intrigued, I stopped my work to investigate.

There, clinging to the screen was a baby bird. Downy tufts of feathers still stuck out in awkward directions. I looked around, worried—how did it get to this window? There was a tree nearby, and birds were known to nest in it. Could this bird actually fly? Or did it land on the window by some minor miracle? I watched it struggle with the screen for at least 5 minutes before it finally settled on the windowsill. I knew that for this poor animal, the 3 story drop looked disastrous. Like the world below that sill was nothing but an abyss—waiting to claim anything that fell to it. A dark void of chaos, and then nothing.

Frantically, I searched my pockets for my phone. There had to be someone I could call. Animal control, a friend—someone had to know what to do about desperate baby birds. Or rather, a desperate writer watching a baby bird.

Just as I queued an Internet search, a larger bird swooped down onto the sill. It stood looking at the baby, until finally the two flew off together. Just like that.

I slowly returned my phone to my pocket, staring at the pair that had made its way back to the local tree.

I remember wishing people were like that. They say the people in power will never give you the education necessary to overthrow them. And that’s true.

But those birds—they helped each other fly.

Like some small miracle.

my-sin-my-s0ul: I sat on the couch in our new apartment, staring at the TV screen and feeling sorry...

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 12:58:46 -0400

my-sin-my-s0ul:

I sat on the couch in our new apartment, staring at the TV screen and feeling sorry for myself. I wiped the dust of some cheap junk food off of my hands as a sleazy politician talked at a crowd of desperate Americans. I reached for the half-broken remote as he was saying something about the housing market being underwater. The TV set made an audible clicking noise as the screen went dark, and I sat and stared at my own miserable reflection for what felt like seven years. That’s just about the only time line I know anymore. For seven years we watched our home sinking like an old, abandoned cruise ship. What used to be full of life and color got colder, damper—isolated. I shook my head in disgust, and my image in the television screen mocked the movement. Time, money, emotions—I couldn’t make sense of one damn thing.

The housing market is under water.

When you struggle for a long time, it always feels like you’re drowning. Floods of anxiety make it difficult to breathe, to think—until your lungs are on fire and everything goes numb.

I threw the remote onto our battered coffee table and jumped at the sound. Blinkingly, I wondered—who is steering the big ship? The politicians? God? Maybe no one. Maybe we’re just relying on the wind.

That would-be captain at that press conference—he doesn’t know anything. He thinks he’s safe at the top. He mans the crow’s nest and the helm, so he thinks he knows what’s coming. He thinks he’s got it all figured out.

But I know.

It’s only a matter of time until people get tired of sinking. They’ll fight back. And once you start kicking and flailing, well, you’re swimming.

All we need is a little more wind. Higher waves. Just like that, I’ve answered my own question. We’re relying on the elements.

Because you know, the rising tide raises every ship.

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Tue, 11 Jun 2013 01:52:57 -0400

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Sun, 09 Jun 2013 23:42:03 -0400

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Sun, 09 Jun 2013 23:41:50 -0400

fuckyeahbeautifulsex: Fuckyeahbeautifulsex.tumblr.com

Sun, 09 Jun 2013 23:36:40 -0400

fuckyeahbeautifulsex:

Fuckyeahbeautifulsex.tumblr.com

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Sun, 09 Jun 2013 22:29:39 -0400

fiskarna: untitled by joana guerreiro on Flickr.

Sat, 08 Jun 2013 16:53:20 -0400

fiskarna:

untitled by joana guerreiro on Flickr.

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Thu, 06 Jun 2013 01:15:25 -0400

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Wed, 05 Jun 2013 23:33:30 -0400

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Tue, 04 Jun 2013 20:57:11 -0400

ryandonato: Andy Denzler

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 20:42:54 -0400

ryandonato:

Andy Denzler

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Mon, 03 Jun 2013 23:26:13 -0400

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Sat, 01 Jun 2013 13:05:35 -0400

glorialovescats: visual representation of putting your trust...

Fri, 31 May 2013 11:31:28 -0400

glorialovescats:

visual representation of putting your trust in someone