description

zero / gray
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birdslut: (n) an individual willing to perform favours in exchange for birds. oft mistaken for a slutbird, an avian with promiscuous tendencies.

i am both.

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i did some obnoxious deepsea HANG IN THERE!!!style posters because comic sans is pretty much guaranteed to cheer up my significant other, but i figured maybe somebody else out there could use a cheery vampire squid!! so here they are for general use uvu

i may do more of these in the future

some shmuck signed up for facebook with my email a few weeks ago and still hasn’t noticed
i feel like this could probably be more polite, but my girlfriend said i should just go with “GREETINGS, MEATBAGS”, so i felt this was the better option

some shmuck signed up for facebook with my email a few weeks ago and still hasn’t noticed

i feel like this could probably be more polite, but my girlfriend said i should just go with “GREETINGS, MEATBAGS”, so i felt this was the better option

i’m just going to take a moment to remind everyone about the best les miserables adaptation 

This was another one of our fears: that Life wouldn’t turn out to be like Literature. Look at our parents — were they the stuff of Literature? At best, they might aspire to the condition of onlookers and bystanders, part of a social backdrop against which real, true, important things could happen. Like what? The things Literature was all about: love, sex, morality, friendship, happiness, suffering, betrayal, adultery, good and evil, heroes and villains, guilt and innocence, ambition, power, justice, revolution, war, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, the individual against society, success and failure, murder, suicide, death, God. And barn owls.
julian barnes, the sense of an ending

In the meantime, we were book-hungry, sex-hungry, meritocratic, anarchistic. All political and social systems appeared to us corrupt, yet we declined to consider an alternative other than hedonistic chaos.

Yes, of course we were pretentious — what else is youth for? We used terms like ‘Weltanschauung’ and ‘Sturm und Drang’, enjoyed saying ‘That’s philosophically self-evident’, and assured one another that imagination’s first duty was to be transgressive.

julian barnes, the sense of an ending
We live in time — it holds us and moulds us — but I’ve never felt I understood it very well. And I’m not referring to theories about how it bends and doubles back, or may exist elsewhere in parallel versions. No, I mean ordinary, everyday time, which clocks and watches assure us passes regularly: tick-tock, click-clock. Is there anything more plausible than a second hand? And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time’s malleability. Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing — until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return.
julian barnes, the sense of an ending
google was surprisingly unhelpful in my quest to find a sound clip to represent ‘dramatic tension’

google was surprisingly unhelpful in my quest to find a sound clip to represent ‘dramatic tension’