Frontal Lobotomy

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me
negat0ry:

doc martens pascal boot (the classic eight-eye) now comes in a reproduction of the right panel of heironymus bosch’s garden of earthly delights 

ShouldIspend$140onthisthough
IthinkIshould

negat0ry:

doc martens pascal boot (the classic eight-eye) now comes in a reproduction of the right panel of heironymus bosch’s garden of earthly delights 

ShouldIspend$140onthisthough

IthinkIshould

(Source: solestruck.com, via eatstarchmom)

You have been reading Byron. You have been marking the passages that seem to approve of your own character. I find marks against all those sentences which seem to express a sardonic yet passionate nature; a moth-like impetuosity dashing itself against hard glass. You thought, as you drew your pencil there, “I too throw off my cloak like that. I too snap my fingers in the face of destiny”. Yet Byron never made tea as you do, who fill the pot so that when you put the lid on the tea spills over. There is a brown pool on the table - it is running among your books and papers. Now you mop it up, clumsily, with your pocket-handkerchief. You then stuff your handkerchief back into your pocket - that is not Byron; that is you; that is so essentially you that if I think of you in twenty years’ time, when we are both famous, gouty and intolerable, it will be by that scene: and if you are dead, I shall weep.

The Waves, Virginia Woolf

Ways in which this particular autistic six-year-old in my class and I are secretly spirit twins:

1.  He spent all of his snack time arranging a bunch of letter-magnets in a circle on the board, then stepped back with his hands on his head and cried, “Is so beautiful!”

2.  I asked him to sit in his chair.  He responded by flopping on to my lap and muttering, “I want another chair.”

I want ALL the chairs.

3. He curled up in the fetal position because the snack routine was slightly different today and did not uncurl until he was reassured that he would, in fact, get food just like every other day.

4.  He spent most of the afternoon drawing butts at his desk and giggling to himself about it.

sophy-says:

"L’amour plus fort que la mort, c’est des conneries."

Love is more powerful than death, what a load.

If you are not watching The Returned, you are missing out on so many things, but especially these two baby angels/hair goddesses and their sister feelings.  

jamiatt:

Way to ruin everything for everyone everywhere forever

jamiatt:

Way to ruin everything for everyone everywhere forever

Q: How many male novelists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
A: He lit a cigarette. His glass of whiskey lit a cigarette too. “I can only truly love my best friend,” he said, “but not in a gay way. Women wouldn’t understand it. They’re too gay.” Both of the cigarettes agreed.

moarrrmagazine:

Catherine the Great’s Erotic Furniture

"During the second world war in one of the palaces of Tsarskoye Selo, a group of Soviet soldiers found a room decorated in a frank erotic style. According to witnesses , one of the walls was entirely hung with wooden phalluses of various shapes, a range of chairs, desks, and screens all decorated with pornographic images supplementing the whole appearance. Soldiers didn’t loot anything or destroy anything there, on the contrary, they made a dozen of documentary photos.

Most of the pictures were lost in the fire of war, but some of Hermitage personnel also confirm the existence of the parlour, noting that Catherine the Great even made a bodouir for Platon Zubov, but it’s unlikely that it could reached the 20th century. It is also known that the collection of erotic art belonged to the Romanov family was catalogued in 1930s . The evidences indicate that the objects were only shown to a selection of visitors. But the catalogue was lost. Like the whole entire collection, it was allegedly destroyed in 1950. However this small selection of photographs still exist”

(via jcm638)

The Alnwick Poison Garden is pretty much what you’d think it is: a garden full of plants that can kill you (among many other things). Some of the plants are so dangerous that they have to be kept behind bars. [x]

(Source: bregma, via swinton)

Winning the Nobel Prize was not the most important moment of Doris Lessing’s extraordinary and prolific life, and it seems as though some of her critics won’t forgive her for not pretending that it was.

Alexandra Schwartz on Doris Lessing’s unorthodox reaction to winning the 2007 Nobel Prize in Literature: http://nyr.kr/18Qx7In (via newyorker)

(Source: newyorker.com, via newyorker)

This looks batshit insane.  I can’t fucking wait.