January 2011
68 posts
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Most of us, in our daily lives, do not think about rape at all. Women, however,...
– Pornography, Lad Mags, Video Games and Boys: Reviving the Canary in the Cultural Coalmine Matthew B. Ezzell (via iwillnotshavemyvagina)
This x1000. Being on guard a majority of the time is exhausting.
(via reclusiveobscenities)
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Just because I’m choosy about what I want—in this case, enlightenment, or peace,...
– Franny and Zooey, J.D. Salinger, 1955 (via fuckyeahgoodbooks)
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Sartre: Fear versus Anguish. Vertigo.
“Anguish is distinguished from fear in that fear is fear of beings-in-the-world whereas anguish is anguish before myself. Vertigo is anguish to the extent that I am not afraid of falling over the precipice, but of throwing myself over. A situation provokes fear if there is a possibility of my life being changed from without; my being provokes anguish to the extent that I...
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I mostly do.
No wonder we cannot appreciate the really central Kafka joke: that the horrific...
– David Foster Wallace, Consider the Lobster: And Other Essays (via: mianoti & ohnonotme)
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Maybe nothing has changed. Maybe people have always treated me this way and the only difference is I now have the time to notice.
Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.
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Yeah being a man is a bliss
One Hit one Kiss
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We pull our boots on with both hands
but we can’t punch ourselves awake and all...
– Richard Siken, Little Beast (via babyfaline)
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I can remember speaking to a 12-year-old boy, a football player, and I asked...
– Shakesville: “My liberation as a man is tied to your liberation as a woman.” (via sarahgraham7)
CLICK THROUGH AND READ THIS. It is important.
(via braided)
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I’m just so sick of pedants and conceited little tearer-downers I could scream.
– J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey (via -naked)
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I have scars on my hands from touching certain people.
– J.D. Salinger (via fuckyeahpastiche)
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Poppies In October
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts. Nor the woman in the ambulance Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly —— A gift, a love gift Utterly unasked for By a sky Palely and flamily Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes Dulled to a halt under bowlers. O my God, what am I That these late mouths should cry open In a forest of frost, in a dawn of...
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I think
this one
is my deci-
sion. How
strange.
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“May you not rest, as long as I am living. You...
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