Reblog this
230,791 notes   -   Posted 18 hours ago

thisurltotallysucks:

dion-thesocialist:

It’s hilarious that we live in a society that will shame you for how much sex you have and for the junk food you eat. Like, wow, how dare you eat delicious foods and have orgasms, you’re a monster. Enjoy your miserable life filled with pleasures.

image


Reblog this
247,439 notes   -   Posted 18 hours ago

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.


Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.   (via coffeeisneverstrongenough)

(Source: oliviacirce)

Reblog this
155,392 notes   -   Posted 18 hours ago

Reblog this
23,808 notes   -   Posted 19 hours ago

The devil is real. And he’s not a little red man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he’s a fallen angel, and he used to be God’s favorite.
American Horror Story (via emmiinwonderland)
Reblog this
14,025 notes   -   Posted 19 hours ago

Reblog this
41,547 notes   -   Posted 20 hours ago

kaworu420:

i have three moods

  • 420
  • 69
  • 666

(Source: realfurry)


Reblog this
360,483 notes   -   Posted 1 day ago

It’s all messy:
The hair.
The bed.
The words.
The heart.
Life…

William Leal. (via retratou)
Reblog this
346,128 notes   -   Posted 4 days ago

Time to leave now, get out of this room, go somewhere, anywhere; sharpen this feeling of happiness and freedom, stretch your limbs, fill your eyes, be awake, wider awake, vividly awake in every sense and every pore.
Stefan Zweig (via realizes)
Reblog this
4,278 notes   -   Posted 4 days ago

I am sorry for filling you with beer and bad thoughts and then asking you why you shook. I am sorry for pinching you, for hitting you, for bruising the thin-skinned parts of you. I am sorry for the names I called you when we were fighting. You are not ugly. You are not useless. You would not be better off gone. I’m sorry for almost throwing you out into the street because my sadness was too much for me. I’m sorry for carving my fingernails into your thigh and then resenting the way people asked, “How’d that happen?” I’m sorry for plucking you and nicking your calves with drugstore razors. I’m sorry I let some people see you in the moonlight. They didn’t deserve to know the color of your hips like I do. I’m sorry for leaving you convulsing over a toilet bowl over some boy. I’m sorry I did not thank you for simply trying to take me where I wanted to go. I’m sorry I screamed at you to shrink, shrink, shrink when all you could do was grow. I’m sorry that this apology is ten years too late. I’m sorry that it will probably come again. I’m sorry that I do not treat anybody else as poorly as I have treated you. I’m sorry that I am constantly learning how to love you, when you have never once doubted how you feel about me. I’m sorry in ways I have not yet learned to communicate.
An Apology to My Body | Lora Mathis (via coffeeisneverstrongenough)

(Source: lora-mathis)

Reblog this
7,415 notes   -   Posted 5 days ago

I didn’t realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and I was gone.
F. Scott Fitzgerald - Babylon Revisited (via ohdarlingstaygold)
Reblog this
29 notes   -   Posted 5 days ago

People run from rain but
sit
in bathtubs full of
water.

Charles Bukowski (via bittersweetsongs)

(Source: cachaemic)

Reblog this
302,089 notes   -   Posted 5 days ago


do you believe you’re missing out?
that everything good is happening somewhere else?
Reblog this
50,593 notes   -   Posted 5 days ago

Reblog this
154,030 notes   -   Posted 5 days ago

Reblog this
12,078 notes   -   Posted 5 days ago