Random Lunacy

Because here’s the thing about realizing you’re into girls. Hardly anyone I know has ever said, “Am I gay?” in the same way they say, “Hey, do you know what the weather’s supposed to be like tomorrow?” Like they just need to figure out how to dress for the occasion. No, when most people ask, “Am I gay?” they ask it with the kind of urgency they would usually reserve for things like, “Do I strap this parachute to my back and jump from this free falling airplane or do I nose dive into the ocean and hope the sharks don’t eat my remains? SINK OR SWIM? LIVE OR DIE? QUENCH THE FIRE OR BURN ALIVE?” It feels so urgent, and the reason it feels so urgent is because you’re probably not just asking, “Hey, do I want to make out with other girls?”

You’re also probably asking: What the hell are my parents going to say when I tell them I want to kiss other girls? And my friends and my co-workers and my classmates and everyone at my family reunion? And what’s that girl going to say when I tell her I want to kiss her? And how is my life ever going to be OK, and how can I go on being the same, and am I the same, and what else do I not know about what’s alive inside me? And who will still love me and who will start hating me, and is God involved, or the government maybe, and what if it’s only one girl I want to kiss, and how do I label myself and must I label myself, and what if I change my mind and, really, what if I do burn alive?

Heather Hogan (via cathrin3)

kitty-noodles:

ianbrooks:

Wire Bonsai by Ken To

Bonsai is a reflective art, but you could almost see yourself in the delicately wrapped copper wire that Ken uses to cnstruct his miniature bonsai sculptures, which are available to purchase at his rondei.

Artist: ebay / DeviantArt

I want fifty

machotrouts:

I’ve spent the past couple of days asking several hundred Grindr users in Edinburgh whether they believe Scotland should be an independent country. Replies were of variable quality. Here is a representative sample:


diversexity:

blessedharlot:

thefuquanator:

buttonpoetry:

Javon Johnson - “cuz he’s black”

This hits me in ways that are unimaginable

I just can’t not reblog this, every single time.

I’m fairly sure I have reblogged this before, but I cannot help but reblog it again. I see this and I weep. Truly sobbing at my computer because I see all of the faces of my 8th grade boys who have had to grow up too quickly because they’re black, poor, and male. I think about their lives and the lessons that I can’t teach them in my 45 minute writing class. I cry because I know that some of them will not survive the war that Javon speaks about in this poem. I cry because I care so deeply for my students, but no matter what I do I am just one more adult that cannot protect them from their surroundings.

prokopetz:

This is the one time of year that I love wasps.
Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.
Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.
The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.
I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.
The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.
So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.
Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.
Fucking wasps.

prokopetz:

This is the one time of year that I love wasps.

Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.

Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.

The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.

I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.

The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.

So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.

Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.

Fucking wasps.

thethespacecoyote:

ineloquentformalities:

boygeorgemichaelbluth:

funoftheday:

Instead of caramel apples this Halloween, melt jolly ranchers in a 250 degree oven for around 5 minutes, then pour over your apples. Add edible glitter for the sparkling space effect!

this is kind of genius

WHOA

NIGHT VALE APPLES

thethespacecoyote:

ineloquentformalities:

boygeorgemichaelbluth:

funoftheday:

Instead of caramel apples this Halloween, melt jolly ranchers in a 250 degree oven for around 5 minutes, then pour over your apples. Add edible glitter for the sparkling space effect!

this is kind of genius

WHOA

NIGHT VALE APPLES

yemite:

sarah531:

The other day I had a really good idea for a story:

A high school Shakespeare club angrily splits into two groups when they can’t agree on the correct interpretation of Romeo and Juliet. One group thinks it’s a cautionary tale about the stupidity of youth and shallow lust; the other group think it’s a beautiful tragedy about poisonous hatred conquered by love. Reconciliation seems impossible-

-then a person from one group falls in love with a person from the other

#it would be better if somehow EVERY OTHER SHAKESPEARE WAS HAPPENING AT ONCE#like you got a benedict and beatice b-story#and then somebody see’s their dad’s ghost#and there’s cross-dressing#and three upperclassmen tell macbeth he will be drama club president

A Bit of Fry and Laurie - 4x03