Had a dream I went back to Wisconsin, and I was going to stay there for good. I was playing guitar in a church band. Twin Peaks was running out of water. I watched Dale Cooper rinse out his mouth for a very long time. Looking out the window I noticed a strange utility vehicle in yellow outside and went to check it out. Took a detour to the bar next door. Local art students had installed a mechanical wooden wall with picture frames that changed slowly descending, large stained and regal. It was their early tumblr. One was a guy named “SCANLAN” and I thought, I know him he’s a film blogger he used to follow me (fiction) whatever happened to him? His name was in gold letters on the side with the other founding members. There was some other kid too, made illustrations of reptiles for nature books.
I was beckoned by my mother to leave. Outside it was incredibly urban. She ran across the street and I followed her, but the intersection kept getting wider and wider, the blue busses faster and closer, until I would get caught. That sounds like the kind of dreams people are supposed to have.
Anonymous asked: 5--the price that, tumblr, pizza was there and, It's Zephyrine's second year, anons
It is Zephyrine’s second year, anon. Zephyrine. Good call.
PUUUUUT IT O N TH E PIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
It’s not that I can’t fall in love. It’s really that I can’t help falling in love with too many things all at once. So, you must understand why I can’t distinguish between what’s platonic and what isn’t, because it’s all too much and not enough at the same time. — Jack Kerouac (via larmoyante)
(Source: partizany, via stabdate)
Must everything be ugly? Redbook Magazine, 1966. via
(Source: accidentaltheme, via terekhova)
View of the Brouwersgracht in Amsterdam, Eduard Karsen
“Memory is a poet, not a historian.”