volgare

nevver:

Gabriel García Márquez, RIP

nevver:

Gabriel García Márquez, RIP

i’m not interested in competing with anyone. i hope we all make it.

(Source: arabellesicardi, via andyouandeye)

9:34pm
nevver:

Restored to the horror of his situation

nevver:

Restored to the horror of his situation

firsttimeuser:

Gabriel García Márquez   March 6, 1927- April 17, 2014




back in the day…when I was in college…during that awkward period before class starts where everyone was just mostly silently waiting around for the instructor to start talking…I would do this sometimes and say “maybe this way, the knowledge will just soak into my brain”. and then people would laugh and bam. friendship. [by friendship i mean the temporary camaraderie of seeing each other for 6 hours a week for 10 weeks]. 

Rest in peace. sorry for the tangent.

firsttimeuser:

Gabriel García Márquez   March 6, 1927- April 17, 2014

back in the day…when I was in college…during that awkward period before class starts where everyone was just mostly silently waiting around for the instructor to start talking…I would do this sometimes and say “maybe this way, the knowledge will just soak into my brain”. and then people would laugh and bam. friendship. [by friendship i mean the temporary camaraderie of seeing each other for 6 hours a week for 10 weeks]. Rest in peace. sorry for the tangent.

(via communicants)

(Source: etohh, via mizznasty)

(Source: madmenwiththingsdrawnonthem, via thewaitingplace)

deathiswhimsicaltoday:

"I’ve lost all my money on these films. They are not commercial. But I’m glad to lose it this way. To have for a souvenir of my life pictures like Umberto D. and The Bicycle Thief.”
Vittorio De Sica (July 7, 1901/02 — November 13, 1974)

deathiswhimsicaltoday:

"I’ve lost all my money on these films. They are not commercial. But I’m glad to lose it this way. To have for a souvenir of my life pictures like Umberto D. and The Bicycle Thief.

Vittorio De Sica (July 7, 1901/02 — November 13, 1974)

(Source: strangewood)

humans-of-pdx:

"I don’t really like people, but it’s difficult to get comfortable with loneliness. I mean, I’ve tried to have friends, but it never works out. And I’m tired of going out alone. I’m ok staying in at my place. It smells good when I burn incense and I have a lot of records and I can just play video games.” The bus she was waiting for arrived. “Do you need to go?” "It’s ok. Another one will come in ten minutes… But then, you know, sometimes I just want a partner— a relationship. It would be nice to share this part of my life with someone. I’ve been single for years, and you know, there are people I could call if I wanted to. But people always end up saying things that rub me the wrong way, or if I open up to them, suddenly they want me to be their best friend, and I don’t want people to have expectations of me. I don’t want to waste anyone else’s time if I’m not interested in being close to them." Another bus came and went while she told me about the loneliness, wiping tears from her eyes. Then another. “I’m sorry, I’ve talked too long.” "It’s really ok. Sometimes we just need to connect." "Yeah, I forget that sometimes."

humans-of-pdx:


"I don’t really like people, but it’s difficult to get comfortable with loneliness. I mean, I’ve tried to have friends, but it never works out. And I’m tired of going out alone. I’m ok staying in at my place. It smells good when I burn incense and I have a lot of records and I can just play video games.” 

The bus she was waiting for arrived. “Do you need to go?” 

"It’s ok. Another one will come in ten minutes… But then, you know, sometimes I just want a partner— a relationship. It would be nice to share this part of my life with someone. I’ve been single for years, and you know, there are people I could call if I wanted to. But people always end up saying things that rub me the wrong way, or if I open up to them, suddenly they want me to be their best friend, and I don’t want people to have expectations of me. I don’t want to waste anyone else’s time if I’m not interested in being close to them." 

Another bus came and went while she told me about the loneliness, wiping tears from her eyes. Then another. “I’m sorry, I’ve talked too long.” 

"It’s really ok. Sometimes we just need to connect." 

"Yeah, I forget that sometimes."

(via laylawknee)


I lunghi capelli della morte (1964) dir. Antonio Margheriti

I lunghi capelli della morte (1964) dir. Antonio Margheriti

(Source: goregirlsdungeon, via bbook)

arstheoretica:

"Purple (X11) - Part 1" in Hue, ƒaulthttp://www.xn—ault-feb.net/issues/hue#/lucas_1

arstheoretica:

"Purple (X11) - Part 1" in Hue, ƒault
http://www.xn—ault-feb.net/issues/hue#/lucas_1

(via anotherreallybadblog)


Down the Dirt Road Blues by Charley Patton
6:42pm

(Source: misanthropevibes)

manicgay:

<3

manicgay:

<3

deathandmysticism:

Pamphlet about a farmer whose field of oats was destroyed by the devil, 1678

deathandmysticism:

Pamphlet about a farmer whose field of oats was destroyed by the devil, 1678

Hemingway and James Joyce were drinking buddies in Paris. Joyce was thin and bespectacled; Hemingway was tall and strapping. When they went out Joyce would get drunk, pick a fight with a bigger guy in the bar and then hide behind Hemingway and yell, “Deal with him, Hemingway. Deal with him.”

[x]

Between this and the story about him reassuring F. Scott Fitzgerald re dick size, I’m developing a picture of Hemingway as the mother hen of the disaffected white male literary set of the early 20th century.

He probably called up Steinbeck sometimes and was like I CAN’T EVEN WITH THESE DIPSHITS and Steinbeck was all “That’s what you get for living in Paris, asshole”.

(via thewonderdarling)

(Source: newzerokaneda, via thewonderdarling)

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