thelaughingworld:

shows this summer:

• best coast
• built to spill
• american nightmare
• the summerland tour
• mean jeans/the adults
• the early november
• the gaslight anthem
• titus andronicus
• braid
• tim barry
• murder by death (possibly)

it’s gonna be a sweet summer.

I suspect a lot of you share musical tastes with http://thelaughingworld.tumblr.com - do drop by and say hi.

(Source: choppybluesea)

"

That summer I did not go crazy

but I wore

very close

very close

to the bone.

"

Dorothy Allison, “To the Bone” (via thelaughingworld)

(Source: fromsappho, via choppybluesea)

Teaching →

Stuck.

Birds fan themselves;
in heat they witness
my slow foundation -
so slow nothing builds.

For me, no road.
Even rodents quickly
scurry upon the ground,
finding nourishment,
strength.

Soil. With grubs,
manure, the dead -
not my only refuge,
but my only.

A hoped-for flowering,
a temporary beauty.
Beneath the heat -
before the cold -
a sign things might
be better.

"Birds fan themselves;
in heat they witness
my slow foundation -
so slow nothing builds."

Teaching

"Dexterous turn of phrase -
silver moonlight, summer’s lake,
illuminating nothing."

Exile

(Can’t thank http://idwellinpossibility.tumblr.com enough for liking this poem.)

tomfoolerie:

AC is out.

Um. Hi? Yeah, I’m writing my dissertation over here. It’s on Xenophon. You look, um, great in the corner over there. It’s a bit distracting, but I’ll let you do what you’re doing…. okay, I’ll let you talk to your boyfriend. *sigh*

(Source: cristania, via secondstoryman-deactivated20130)

koukoumpitsa:

I’ve got that summertime, summertime sadness.

For the majority of the people, summer is the season when happiness becomes the meaning of a life. I don’t like that. Most of the time I hate summer. I hate the extremely hot weather that burns your skin. I hate the loneliness that summer has. I hate being left alone, a habit that I have the last years. I hate that other people are happy. I hate the sun. I hate the sea. I hate the saltiness it has that sticks in your body for the rest of the day.
Maybe I hate all these things so much because I love them in an extremely way.

I like winter when hearts and souls are cold and closed and they are looking desperate for a warm breath of yours.

“To Autumn” is one of my favorite poems. I think you can tell what my favorite season is :P

However: this summer has been a blast. The graphic novels I’ve read alone have been awesome.

"Dexterous turn of phrase -
silver moonlight, summer’s lake,
illuminating nothing."

Exile

"Air – thick with wet heat -
surprised by a willingness
to move upon land."

Sunday

"Early summer rain -
houses facing the river,
two of them."

Yosa Buson, “Early summer rain”