oh yeah and this is the view from the bottom of my garden at home
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oars folded up like wings
i've got a new script about a sensitive young subway guard that just stinks of courage and integrity. and i know, sir, that next to scripts that are tender and poignant, you love scripts that have courage and integrity. this one, sir, as i say, stinks of both. it's full of melting-pot types. it's sentimental. it's violent in the right places. and just when the sensitive subway guard's problems are getting the best of him, destroying his faith in mankind and the little people, his nine-year-old niece comes home from school and gives him some nice, pat chauvinistic philosophy handed down to us through posterity and P.S 564 all the way from andrew jackson's backwoods wife. it can't miss, sir! it's down-to-earth, it's simple, it's untrue, and it's familiar enough and trivial enough to be understood and loved by our greedy, nervous, illiterate sponsors.
~ Tuesday, January 31 ~
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fjallraven induced eye-fucking in the library
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~ Monday, January 30 ~
I’m selling some of my recent paintings in my Etsy shop. If you’d like to own some of my artwork, please check it out. I will be posting more pieces periodically as/if these pieces sell.
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reblogged via 
a government soldier at al-gishla castle in the yemen city of saada which is now essentially run independently by rebels and defected military commanders.
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will you miss me when i burn?
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Posts that have made me click the 
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60 degrees in January, so wonderful.
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sorry, mom
