The Absence of Sharks

This is the beauty of procrastination

(Source: disneyandpixars, via distraction)

(Source: jordanvoth, via finnharries)

from Wednesday, Oct 16th, 2013.

The truth never sings at the roar of night,

When she comes to my salvation, but neither really saves.

Left in the midst are pieces of two, 

Your checkered mate, soul’s breach.

I wonder how the flowers on your dress never dance away

In high heaven

For the proximity of her encompassing.

Then I start to ask: what are night’s words?

If the seasons split, and still no trace of her humble shadow,

Just a vestige note, curvilinear writing

And an empty wig.

I have searched ‘til the end of the purple carpet,

To see what your breath has left,

If only you could show me

How you lived.



(Source: carnivalobscura)



(Source: airmail)


Allow me to dissolve myself,

If every inch of that dream,

Is grossly refuted,

When you understand the same stars,

But you seek another shelter within that stable’s reach,

I’m tired of running,

From your face. Your beautiful face.

JULIE LONDON -Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye

Julie London knows how to sing

5 months ago


take no shit 2014

(Source: gatissed, via wolfchurros)



(Source: bowiepills, via love-a-lad-insane)

(Source: sforzinda, via vincere-)

an unhappy filmmaker



Welcome to Cardboard Box Office – our homemade creations of some of your favorite movie scenes built from some of our favorite domestic junk.

The project began after finding that we had accumulated both a lot of cardboard boxes (due to moving to a new country) and a baby (due to giving birth). With our social lives drastically altered we decided to find a way to make some of those housebound weekends a little more fun.

The costumes, props, and sets in Cardboard Box Office are created entirely out of everyday household items, toys, cardboard, and three individuals slowly losing their sanity. Enjoy!”

A+ parenting.

(Source:, via jennaanne01)

Because in the end you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.

Jack Kerouac  (via jennasouers)