January 2012
24 posts
Jan 19th
34,433 notes
Jan 19th
1 note
Jan 18th
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Jan 17th
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Jan 16th
1 note
“A 19-year-old Marine has a very hard time reconciling the fact that it’s okay to...”
– Sebastian Junger (via azspot)
Jan 16th
75 notes
Jan 16th
284 notes
Jan 16th
816 notes
Jan 16th
18 notes
Jan 14th
245 notes
Jan 14th
420 notes
Jan 14th
3,462 notes
Jan 14th
142 notes
Jan 14th
246 notes
Jan 14th
2,951 notes
Jan 14th
100 notes
Jan 14th
106,242 notes
Jan 14th
206 notes
Jan 13th
511 notes
Jan 13th
10 notes
Jan 11th
249 notes
Jan 11th
52 notes
Jan 11th
31 notes
Jan 4th
56 notes
December 2011
8 posts
Dec 31st
682 notes
Dec 27th
34 notes
Dec 22nd
483 notes
Dec 22nd
1,373 notes
Dec 13th
11 notes
Dec 11th
8,855 notes
Dec 7th
511 notes
Dec 1st
8,428 notes
November 2011
39 posts
Nov 29th
238 notes
Nov 29th
194 notes
Nov 25th
633 notes
Nov 25th
1,557 notes
Nov 23rd
48 notes
Nov 23rd
123 notes
For Weeks After the Funeral
blogut: The house felt like the opera, the audience in their seats, hushed, ready, but the cast not yet arrived. And if I said anything to try to appease the anxious air, my words would hang alone like the single chandelier waiting to dim the auditorium, but still too huge, too prominent, too bright, its light announcing only itself, bringing more emptiness into the emptiness. Andrea Hollander...
Nov 23rd
54 notes
Nov 23rd
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Nov 22nd
243 notes
Nov 22nd
465 notes
Nov 22nd
1,615 notes
Nov 22nd
71 notes
Nov 22nd
16 notes
landlessness: heads up—amc is playing there will be blood right now. one of my favorite movies from the last 10 years—and also ever.
Nov 22nd
Sharing Poetry: Jack Stewart, "Keeping Track of My... →
sharingpoetry: I sometimes find him in the attic, lying on his side, contemplating the insulation. Or just staring at the beams, trying to get the measure of force and distribution. He turns up a lot in the garage. I know he loves me. But if I look away for an instant, he’s off, and I worry that he won’t come…
Nov 21st
96 notes
Nov 18th
1,527 notes
1 tag
Dream
 The fire sounds like a centipede cracking its knuckles. You are there, too, reading a book in a language neither of us understand. I am a partially musculated skeleton, my heart merely angel veins embracing a void. All of my dreams are like this: I’m standing in line at the bank, watching a redneck argue over mortgage rates. I look at a watch that I lost a decade ago. I’m taking a test as the...
Nov 18th
Nov 18th
16,522 notes