:I took a 7 week coast to coast road trip after being laid off from Boeing. I didn’t have a camper but realized that being able to pull off the road at a rest or truck stop was the way to go to make the trip affordable. With a few sheets of 1/2” plywood and misc. hardware this is what I came up with. The effort was well worth the time and materials.
perfect.
(Source: etchasketchy, via homofuck)
(via obsessors)
(Source: thesocietynyc, via musingsofanawkwardblackgirl)
THIS! prime example of why king of the hill is one of my favs
(Source: random-tv, via musingsofanawkwardblackgirl)
Examples of overwhelming kindness following the Boston Marathon explosions.
Need to remember the capacity for human kindness on days like these.
I’m not fascinated by people who smile all the time. What I find interesting is the way people look when they are lost in thought, when their face becomes angry or serious, when they bite their lip, the way they glance, the way they look down when they walk, when they are alone and smoking a cigarette, when they smirk, the way they half smile, the way they try and hold back tears, the way when their face says they want to say something but can’t, the way they look at someone they want or love… I love the way people look when they do these things. It’s… beautiful.
—Clemence Poésy (via hypotheses)
(Source: seabois, via silver-linings-pessimistic)
I have the deepest affection for intellectual conversations. The ability to just sit and talk. About love, about life, about anything, about everything. To sit under the moon with all the time in the world, the full-speed train that is our lives slowing to a crawl. Bound by no obligations, barred by no human limitations. To speak without regret or fear of consequence. To talk for hours and about what’s really important in life.
—(via lemurianvibrations)
(Source: her0inchic, via nihilisticc)
I guess the quote sums it up the best, I want someone to be my muse. I want someone to be so amazing in my eyes that I feel compelled to write something for them. That I would spend hours crafting something beautiful, created in their likeness. Then to gift that person with my words, by verbally seducing their spirit with a written reflection of themselves. It’s been too long, it’s been too long since I’ve written something. I want to write, I need to write… To me, to write is to live. The last time I lived was when I wanted to die… My poetry was my life line, it was my life support, it kept me surviving, but I don’t feel alive. I guess I can’t put up a wanted sign, or an advertisement of some kind looking for a muse. Nor can I take resumes, as if that could predict if the next person who’s lips are introduced to mine will leave my soul in a psychedelic orgasm. I want to dream of you, I want to draw you, I want to mold you. God, I want to to create you. I want to utter words into the universe as if prayers could create a human as divine as you. I want to manifest you, I want to manifest us, I want to manifest life.
Who just threw a week’s worth of panties?
Just me?
Nope, me too!!!
(Source: femburton, via musingsofanawkwardblackgirl)
