feuntes:

La Dispute - Bury Your Flame

When Jordan does this dance…Seriously…I can’t even.

feuntes:

La Dispute - Bury Your Flame

When Jordan does this dance…Seriously…I can’t even.

24/4/2014 . 4,251 notes . Reblog
thelightposts:

The more you train, the harder you push, the faster you go the harder you train.
Sofia Donnecke compete in the heats of the Open Women’s single at the VCRC rowing regatta Dueling over a Grand. She finished the day with three wins and one loss putting her into the semi-final tomorow.

thelightposts:

The more you train, the harder you push, the faster you go the harder you train.

Sofia Donnecke compete in the heats of the Open Women’s single at the VCRC rowing regatta Dueling over a Grand. She finished the day with three wins and one loss putting her into the semi-final tomorow.

24/4/2014 . 173 notes . Reblog
exuberant-imperfection:

it’s true though why am i laughing

exuberant-imperfection:

it’s true though why am i laughing

21/4/2014 . 280,742 notes . Reblog
I need dese. =[So espensive.

I need dese. =[
So espensive.

21/4/2014 . 0 notes . Reblog
I weigh a lot of those pound things.

I weigh a lot of those pound things.

19/4/2014 . 1 note . Reblog
19/4/2014 . 10,375 notes . Reblog

So I was tossing pieces of bread from the bar in the nook into the kitchen where my dog was standing and as she scoured the floor, occassionally looking inquisitively up at the ceiling, I realized that in her tiny limited perception of reality there are sometimes times when delicious food falls from the sky for no reason… Then I managed to convince myself that my dog probably prays to strange pagan wheat deities to bring the sacred bread rain back again.

19/4/2014 . 2 notes . Reblog
14/4/2014 . 12,201 notes . Reblog
People are not good to each other.
I suppose they never will be.
I don’t ask them to be.
But sometimes I think about it.
There must be a way.
Surely, there must be a way
La Dispute
11/4/2014 . 2 notes . Reblog
Quiet at Meetings

He makes too much eye contact but not enough. A child who can only swing full force as the pitch approaches, but missing every time, then swinging not at all. This is not his game. His eyes scour the room for anywhere else to look but land on mine with such stillness to take a momentary respite from that darting averting dance. He cannot seem to help it as a moth will endlessly search for the moon in a hot fluorescent bulb. Unconsciously his hands fiddle, twirling that gold wedding band on his left hand, what latent things lie in those lingering fingers, I wonder.

10/4/2014 . 2 notes . Reblog