Fist Bumps

Shaken out of the sky broke light caught the terrain as a glitter topographic waiting to alight & the train whistle hollowing the cloud cover’s groove & ravine face first the first day’s adventure before horror sets in swallowed whole by the foreshadow where we are now no preamble just something to show off grid iron mapping the backs of your eyes but now it’s the canopy above cutting the blaring sky into lines & the parallel heroics of the telephone wires everything a sequel to something else the only sign of an allergy is the itching that too is a sequel of sorts you could follow this occultism until it dissolves along with horizon hail mary after hail mary is one too many in my book adam and eve are both snakes & when they learn they are naked they spend three verses trying to get fig leaves to stick to them then say fuck it coiled cold in their burrows months later you’d never know the difference because there’s never rain or snow it’s just one continuous sunshine spaz ions after ions revolt revolution repeat fist bumps spread fewer germs than handshakes who cares say the snakes.





(Source: cineraria)

(Source: 1msg, via katiejeanshinkle)

"Frederick the Great used to make his own coffee, with much to-do and fuss. For water he used champagne. Then to make the flavour stronger, he stirred in powdered mustard.

Now to me it seems improbable that Frederick truly liked this brew. I suspect him of bravado.” - MFK Fisher

What I imagine the In-transit beverage service on the Google bus brought to you by Blue Bottle would look like.


Altitude whatever, walking the opposite

Of shoreward away from

The sawing

There’s no other observation to make it seems

Only sawing & hammering

Or the absence of

In these parts

In these parts

There is no absence of

Everything breaking down in tandem

The wet nurses in line at the corner store

For lottery tickets

And It’s-Its

The arc of the day longest

After all the fishing

And not weather but after reports

Of explosives the day after

The forth of July.

Writing the observations

to make a life

exist that looks like a poem

of hammocks, and blackberries, and wheelbarrows

collecting rain

but there’s no rain

in these parts

in these parts

we’re 108 days into the worst drought in 37 years.

Comparing pics of the reservoir

By the water cooler

As if there was a water cooler

In the make-shift office

Where the women take turns cleaning the bathroom

And the men

Piss on the floor.

"…we were young and foolish and had no expectations, because we didn’t care about the sound quality or the commercial motivations of our favorite acts, because we thought, even then, that one day we were going to move on and become successful, because we knew—-the way women always know—-that life wasn’t really about indie rock or music or the moment or the meaning, but that life was about life. And Exile in Guyville was about life, much more than Exile on Main St. is…that was what I loved about it, then and now, and why it’s still one of my favorite records."

Gina Arnold, Exile in Guyville, 33 1/3


next time someone demands your digits and you want to get out of the situation, you can give them this number: (669) 221-6251.

when the person calls or texts, an automatically-generated quotation from feminist writer bell hooks will respond for you.

protect your privacy while dropping some…

Recently tipped off on the best neil young tumblr EVER:


Noway Kanye


Noway Kanye

(via awkwardfoal)

Chamada, Quinteto Armorial, Recife, Brazil, 1975

Brazilian Folk art - Woodcut, Xilogravura
(Northeast Region)

Gilvan Samico, Recife (1928-2013)

(via riverwaltz)