“You can’t order a poem like you order a taco.
Walk up to the counter, say, “I’ll take two”
and expect it to be handed back to you
on a shiny plate.

Still, I like your spirit.
Anyone who says, “Here’s my address,
write me a poem,” deserves something in reply.
So I’ll tell a secret instead:
poems hide. In the bottoms of our shoes,
they are sleeping. They are the shadows
drifting across our ceilings the moment
before we wake up. What we have to do
is live in a way that lets us find them.

Once I knew a man who gave his wife
two skunks for a valentine.
He couldn’t understand why she was crying.
“I thought they had such beautiful eyes.”
And he was serious. He was a serious man
who lived in a serious way. Nothing was ugly
just because the world said so. He really
liked those skunks. So, he re-invented them
as valentines and they became beautiful.
At least, to him. And the poems that had been hiding
in the eyes of skunks for centuries
crawled out and curled up at his feet.

Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us
we find poems. Check your garage, the off sock
in your drawer, the person you almost like, but not quite.
And let me know.” "Valentine for Ernest Mann," Naomi Shihab Nye, 1952 (via aheartbeneathstone)

(Source: poets.org, via howilostyourrespect)

As a recently 28 year old, this. So much this. 
From an AskReddit: “Teenagers of Reddit, what is something you want to ask the adults of Reddit?”

As a recently 28 year old, this. So much this.

From an AskReddit: “Teenagers of Reddit, what is something you want to ask the adults of Reddit?”

“A phone call could have stopped this song
Could’ve related before it all went wrong
Spoken, I might have understood
Type’s no good” Sebadoh
“Collect all the facts that can be collected about the life of Racine and you will never learn from them the art of his verse. All criticism is dominated by the outworn theory that the man is the cause of the work as in the eyes of the law the criminal is the cause of the crime. Far rather are they both the effects.” Paul Valery

Well, I have said this in the past, so I hope i don’t bore you by repeating it, but I think that we live or die under the tyranny of perfection. Socially, we are pushed towards being perfect. Physically, beautiful to conform to standards that are cruel and uncommon, to behave and lead our lives in a certain way, to demonstrate to the world that we are happy and healthy and all full of sunshine. We are told to always smile and never sweat, by multiple commercials of shampoo or beer.

And I feel that the most achievable goal of our lives is to have the freedom that imperfection gives us.

And there is no better patron saint of imperfection than a monster.

We will try really hard to be angels, but I think that a balanced, sane life is to accept the monstrosity in ourselves and others as part of what being human is. Imperfection, the acceptance of imperfection, leads to tolerance and liberates us from social models that I find horrible and oppressive.

Guilermo Del Toro responding to the question, “Now I know that you have always been intrigued by monsters, but do you have any idea as to why this is?”

This is how my mind works when I’m on sleeping patterns that feel somewhat natural:
Oh my god I just like got the best idea ever we should turn off the 90s emo and fucking watch all three Mad Max films and oh maybe we should say fuck it because we’re getting the boot and watch them REALLY LOUD and if the vietnam vet fuck downstairs gets mad, he’ll totally be cool with it because IT’S FUCKING MAD MAX.

And now I am going to drink myself into submission.

“I’m in the middle of fifteen things, all of them annoying.” Ivanova - Bab5

I can hear Peter Jurasik's voice when reading this

  • Vir: Kiron may die because our "glorious" tradition values wealth and power over love.
  • Londo: My shoes are too tight.
  • Vir: Excuse me?
  • Londo: Something my father said. He was old, very old at the time. I went into his room, and he was sitting alone in the dark, crying. So I asked him what was wrong, and he said, "My shoes are too tight, but it doesn't matter, because I have forgotten how to dance." I never understood what that meant until now. My shoes are too tight, and I have forgotten how to dance.
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