Bufflehead Cabin

How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

— Emily Dickinson


Also infesting ...

Stuff I Shudda Posted

More liked posts

[I think Brinkman is fucking brilliant.]

In order to arrive at what you are not,
you must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know,
and what you own is what you do not own,
and where you are is where you are not.

From East Coker by T.S. Eliot (via hush-syrup)

(via journalofanobody)



Fela Kuti - Water No Get Enemy

It’s Fela Friday!


“Algérie”, préface et textes de Jean Amrouche, photographies de Henriette Grindat. La Guilde du livre, Lausanne, 1956.

(via 2turtlestumbling)


A mare and her foal walk through the rubble of destroyed buildings in the northern district of Beit Hanun in the Gaza Strip, during a humanitarian truce on July 26, 2014. The bodies of at least 35 Palestinians were recovered from rubble across Gaza during the truce.

Photo credit: Mohammed Abed/AFP/Getty Images

(via reblololo)


Bunyola - Mallorca

Jardin de Alfabia / By *Light Painting*

America is one big experiment in what happens when you’re a wealthy, privileged culture that’s pretty much lost religion or spirituality as a real informing presence. It’s still a verbal presence — it’s part of the etiquette that our leaders use, but it’s not inside us anymore, which in one way makes us very liberal and moderate and we’re not fanatics…but on the other hand, it’s very difficult to think that the point of life is to double your salary so that you can go to the mall more often. Even when you’re making fun and sneering at it, there’s a real dark emptiness about it.

David Foster Wallace (via sometimesagreatnotion)

(via ewaeh)


"Each night my wife and I head home to our 1980s International School Bus, where we lay our heads." -@mercysupply #dayinthelife #etsy

(via ringtales)


opium den

[Good morning.]

(via stronder)


A walk in the park. by UniqueCaptures

(via plurdledgabbleblotchits)

GPOY with my daughter Jen in New Zealand


old mr. shadow, old mr. rain
7 devils callin’, whispering my name
old mr. shallow, old mr. vain
tryin’ to outrun you, on a graveyard train

Now these dirty worn out roads, they are my home…

(7 Devils, The Goddamn Gallows)


Jacques-Antony Chovin, Merian (Copperplate engraving), c. 1744.

[What’s going on? The man carries an old oboe like a weapon and a stick. A broken recorder or horn is at his feet. Death plays the fiddle in the old country way at his bony chest, I guess the better to sing. He dances with a lidded box at his waist. The man strides with a flask at his.]

(via ewaeh)

Loading posts...