weedjoke420:

drag me for being fun and cute

High School Football Season

teamcaptains:

i.
Night. Sounds: the hum of insects; sad pop tunes
playing on the stereo; BMWs racing each other
in oily darkness. I say ‘oily’ because if you lit a match
I swear all of it would burn. The sky, sticky residue
left on a pop can, Asian girls popping bubblegum
at the drive-in cinema. There’s nothing I can’t imagine
being on fire. A boy sits next to me. He’s grotesquely thin,
he’s got scars all over his body. His body is a prison
and angels are trying to slash their way out.

I’m sort of obsessed with him, this hideous boy with the scars. 
"Sorry," he mumbles. "Sorry, some guys were chasing me
so I ran into the nearest neighborhood.” I want to say, too bad,
I’m no better. The instant you sat down I imagined
what it’d be like to set you on fire. You’d be the prettiest thing
on the dining room table: charred limbs in a cornucopia—
Friday night Eucharist.

ii.
I tear my lip up thinking about him. I want to take him in my arms
and hold him down in the bathtub because I think I love him,
because I think he loves me back, and I
can’t stand the thought of anything loving me—
because I’m a God who seeks no prayers,
and if I had a Bible it’d say: “Are you sure about this?”

iii.
September air is a corpse
bloated with pond water:
heavy. A football rips
across the sky like a missile
and falls into the nest
of that boy’s arms. It’s not summer
anymore but Lana Del Rey’s 
radio-hit still blasts as we 
bullet past suburban palaces.
The girls at our school 
still dress for Coachella. It 
feels like festival season feels 
like beer cans clanging by a
bonfire feels like the only happy
people are the pretty people posing
for J.Crew’s fall collection. A football
rips across the sky and I don’t worship 
it it rips through me.

iv.
"What have you learned about the one you love?"
Not much. Thinking of him is like driving down 
a foggy boulevard: when I go too fast, there’s always a 
deer in the headlights. He’s the subtle perfume of 
death, a phantom—
                                   scent of sweetness lingering.

v.
Last boy this happened to, the power went out.
Lightning blasted a tree, toppled telephone poles;
the basement flooded. Nearly everything suffered,
even the Baptist Church. Only the McDonald’s stood unmoved.

That was in summer; that was
when I slammed a boy into concrete
and a tornado kicked back, avenging him.

This other boy is something else. He gets pulled from the 
wreckage. I have nothing to do with it. It’s late October and 
summer unsheathes itself and the sun washes everything
in light and makes it all hot. It’s golden, this morning
after the car crash. The boy I love is split open
and this Indian summer beatifies him. 

just-art:

CHTRBT by Kristina Tzekova (personal and collective)

just-art:

CHTRBT by Kristina Tzekova (personal and collective)

babyhongbin:

drink vending machines in hokkaido

Jean-Michel Basquiat: Downtown 81

porquepuedopuedes:

"I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.” - Frida Kahlo 

porquepuedopuedes:

"I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.” - Frida Kahlo 

"Be soft, kind and loving. But also take nobody’s shit."
sexhaver:

an important secret

sexhaver:

an important secret

Tried to go out and get drunk for once and just wound up at a synagogue last night

redtemplo:

micdotcom:

India replaces the Ice Bucket Challenge with the much more sustainable Rice Bucket Challenge 

After seeing the dramatic results from the Ice Bucket Challenge, Indian journalist Manju Latha Kalanidhi was compelled to start something similar, but with an Indian slant. “I felt like doing something more locally tangible. Rice is a staple here,” Kalanidhi told CNN. “We eat it every day, we can store it for months. Why not donate rice to someone who is hungry?”

It’s fairly simpleFollow micdotcom

Go off x1000000

uqqu:

smitethepatriarchy:

greenthepress:

smartercities:

Meet The 14-Year-Old Girl Who Developed A Low-Cost Water Purification System | FastCompany
The next generation of scientists is already hard at work solving our biggest problems. Take Deepika Kurup, a 14-year-old high school student from Nashua, New Hampshire. After seeing children in India drinking dirty water from a stagnant pool, she decided, in her words, “to find a solution to the global water crisis.” And then she actually made some progress towards that goal, developing a solar-powered water purification system.

She is the future

Ever notice how it’s always brilliant teenagers making stuff that will actually solve the world’s worst problems, like what do adults even do?


THIS IS MY COUSIN!!!!!!

uqqu:

smitethepatriarchy:

greenthepress:

smartercities:

Meet The 14-Year-Old Girl Who Developed A Low-Cost Water Purification System | FastCompany

The next generation of scientists is already hard at work solving our biggest problems. Take Deepika Kurup, a 14-year-old high school student from Nashua, New Hampshire. After seeing children in India drinking dirty water from a stagnant pool, she decided, in her words, “to find a solution to the global water crisis.” And then she actually made some progress towards that goal, developing a solar-powered water purification system.

She is the future

Ever notice how it’s always brilliant teenagers making stuff that will actually solve the world’s worst problems, like what do adults even do?

THIS IS MY COUSIN!!!!!!

raboartcollection:

The title of the work is identical to a series of photographs by Huseyin shot in Odessa, showing curtains blowing in the wind. These images inspired an installation of hardened lace curtains, frozen in time and space. The work refers to the gesture of opening the windows to set free the soul of the deceased, as well as the idea of a spirit present in a room, mysteriously lifting the curtains to reveal its presence.
Gabriel Lester,Melancholia in Arcadia (2011)
All rights are reserved. Photography by Peter Cox. Rabo Art Collection

raboartcollection:

The title of the work is identical to a series of photographs by Huseyin shot in Odessa, showing curtains blowing in the wind. These images inspired an installation of hardened lace curtains, frozen in time and space. The work refers to the gesture of opening the windows to set free the soul of the deceased, as well as the idea of a spirit present in a room, mysteriously lifting the curtains to reveal its presence.

Gabriel Lester,Melancholia in Arcadia (2011)

All rights are reserved. Photography by Peter Cox. 
Rabo Art Collection