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cyclopette:

*wakes up at 9* nice

*immediately falls asleep, wakes up at noon* less nice


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fabferre:

The most disappointing thing about the Into The Woods movie is that Milky White is going to be a real cow not a plastic one.


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i am a girl who has been strapped
to her mother’s feet like sandals since
age four, tumbling after her everywhere,
scared to go to sleep at night if
she wasn’t home after ten, locking the
doors at nine when it got too dark
to leave my safety in the hands of a
screen and a window

today they handed me a photo id
and a place to live and she will not be there
to tell me that i can’t close my door
because she doesn’t trust that i’m
not doing homework, or that i’m sleeping
away the feelings i can’t deal with
not coming downstairs for supper for
the tenth night in a row even after
she calls my name over and over again
giving up at six o’clock because it’s too
late for her to try and rouse me

she keeps talking about what will happen
to my room and what she’ll store in there
or if my sister will sleep there while the house
is renovated, that she’s moving the sewing
machine downstairs to make room for bikes
and i just want to grip onto her shins
and make it all stay the same
make it so that there will already be sheets on
the bed when i come home each night
that she won’t have to buy extra food
because i’ll be there

i don’t want to be erased from my own home
like a grocery list on the fridge replaced
by quotes and thoughts that i’ve had at two a.m.
i don’t want this house to become a place
i am too timid to enter
i don’t want to be an inconvenience
i don’t want to let go of the things i’ve had posted
on the walls for thirteen years
or the light being switched on every morning at 6:45

i want the snowy mornings at the bus stop to stay
the bus late like it always is or sometimes too early
taking my mother’s debit card to buy milk for tea
across the street
getting myself an arizona for the walk
or the smell of my sister’s cigarettes wafting in my window
as she has smoke breaks in the dark, standing
in the backyard
the sound of my dog barking like a maniac
my cats scratching at the door, whimpering to get in

i do not want to be lonely, be lost, be stupid
i don’t want to forget what it feels like to have a home

moving day - k.f. (via amillionhosannas)

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aurore59:

Tv Guide Magazine [x]

aurore59:

Tv Guide Magazine [x]


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god sometimes i blast helplessness blues by the fleet foxes and i feel better and worse at the same time like it’s such a good fucking song but it makes me think


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humansofnewyork:

“I didn’t get married until I was 55. But boy was it worth the wait. He looked just like Peter O’Toole!”

humansofnewyork:

“I didn’t get married until I was 55. But boy was it worth the wait. He looked just like Peter O’Toole!”


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cerealninjakat:




"Spooky" Mulder
The idea made me chuckle.

cerealninjakat:

"Spooky" Mulder

The idea made me chuckle.


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How amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head.
— Nina LaCour, Hold Still (via poetrist)

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everythingscenic:

Designer Spotlight: Christopher Oram

1. Evita

2. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

3. Peter and Alice

4. Madame de Sade 

5. A Midsummer Night’s Dream

6. Hamlet

7. Henry V


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Colorful  Paper Sculptures and Patterns by Maud Vantours 


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There is a moment near the end of Gillian Anderson’s fine performance as poor, drink-addled Blanche DuBois when she rises from very good to top-rate…
…For much of this 1947 stage classic, Blanche has tried to maintain a front of disintegrating allure and pretense.
To this end, Miss Anderson makes the most of her hooded, bedroomish eyes – at times she could almost be Jerry Hall’s younger, shorter sister.
But finally Blanche realizes that she is going to be taken away for psychiatric care.
In that instant those eyes create a V-frown of crumbling realization – that the game is up, in part, but also that the burden of her fantasy life is about to be lifted…
…Generally, though, an ingenious take powered by four ace performances, with an A star for X-Files’ Anderson.
The Daily Mail, July 2013 (x)

There is a moment near the end of Gillian Anderson’s fine performance as poor, drink-addled Blanche DuBois when she rises from very good to top-rate…

…For much of this 1947 stage classic, Blanche has tried to maintain a front of disintegrating allure and pretense.

To this end, Miss Anderson makes the most of her hooded, bedroomish eyes – at times she could almost be Jerry Hall’s younger, shorter sister.

But finally Blanche realizes that she is going to be taken away for psychiatric care.

In that instant those eyes create a V-frown of crumbling realization – that the game is up, in part, but also that the burden of her fantasy life is about to be lifted…

…Generally, though, an ingenious take powered by four ace performances, with an A star for X-Files’ Anderson.


The Daily Mail, July 2013 (x)

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