A pirate walks into a pub, orders a flagon of rum, and sits himself down at the bar somewhat uneasily. As he pours the drink, the bartender notices the source of the buccaneer’s agitation: A large, circular object lodged in his pants.

“Excuse me,” he begins, handing over the drink, “but is that a steering wheel down your trousers?”

“Arr, that it be.”

“Might I ask why?” questions the bartender, utterly bewildered.

“I don’t rightly know, mate,” the pirate replies with obvious exasperation, “but it’s drivin’ me nuts.”

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art…

I’m looking forward to this. A timely release, given that I shall be studying much of Keats’ work next year.

I miss being held.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s that dog. Don’t feed it, he’ll just follow you around.”

I’d like to be a Wild Thing … but maybe I am.

nihilnoetia:

(via lastchatwithphontaine)

somethingintellectual:

fairchilds:(via rileyfasho)

somethingintellectual:

nathen:delacroix:nihilnoetia:

Be happy, think clearly.

(via blueskiesandrainbows)

When pretty pictures pop up on my dashboard I needn’t check which Sabino has posted. I just know. They all have this inherent Sabinosity, if you like, that I find difficult to fathom; an instantly recognisable whimsicality that, for me, holds a certain appeal.

They are not his photographs. They have nothing in particular in common. So how are they so recognisable?

I don’t know - but I like it.

I watched this today on your recommendation. While I can’t trust your decisiveness (or lack thereof), I can trust your decent taste in movies. Simon Pegg is, in my not-so-humble opinion, great in anything (though nothing beats Hot Fuzz) and I’ve loved Dylan Moran since the beginning of Black Books. All the Aesopica-style moralistic nonsense got on my nerves but it did make me wonder.

I know I find parallels everywhere because that’s just what I do when I’m down. I escape to music, movies and books only to seek similar situations within. This time, however, I don’t think it’s just me. There are some definite likenesses here. It makes me wonder - and despair.

Didn’t you learn anything from this film?

I never want to be anyone’s damsel in distress and I don’t need a knight in shining armour to turn my life into some idealistic cliche. But when I needed you most, you ran away.

(via sabino)

(via icanread)

sneakerologist:

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you

in spite of everything,

don’t do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart and your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit for hours

staring at your computer screen

or hunched over your

typewriter

searching for words,

don’t do it.

if you’re doing it for money or

fame,

don’t do it.

if you’re doing it because you want

women in your bed,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit there and

rewrite it again and again,

don’t do it.

if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,

don’t do it.

if you’re trying to write like somebody

else,

forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of

you,

then wait patiently.

if it never does roar out of you,

do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife

or your girlfriend or your boyfriend

or your parents or to anybody at all,

you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,

don’t be like so many thousands of

people who call themselves writers,

don’t be dull and boring and

pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-

love.

the libraries of the world have

yawned themselves to

sleep

over your kind.

don’t add to that.

don’t do it.

unless it comes out of

your soul like a rocket,

unless being still would

drive you to madness or

suicide or murder,

don’t do it.

unless the sun inside you is

burning your gut,

don’t do it.

when it is truly time,

and if you have been chosen,

it will do it by

itself and it will keep on doing it

until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

- Charles Bukowski

I am waiting patiently.