Maybe my limbs are made
mostly for decoration,
like the way I feel about
persimmons. You can’t
really eat them. Or you
wouldn’t want to. If you grab
the soft skin with your fist
it somehow feels funny,
like you’ve been here
before and uncomfortable,
too, like you’d rather
squish it between your teeth
impatiently, before spitting
the soft parts back up
to linger on the tongue like
burnt sugar or guilt.
For starters, it was all
an accident, you cut
the right branch
and a sort of light
woke up underneath,
and the inedible fruit
grew dark and needy.
Think crucial hanging.
Think crayon orange.
There is one low, leaning
heart-shaped globe left
and dearest, can you
tell, I am trying
to love you less.
— "Crush," Ada Limón  (via petrichour)

pills-and-emojis:

sochiximbashful:

cudrage:

Katt Williams on Dave Chappelle: “But Dave Chappelle was decapitated in front of us. And until we deal that. Until we deal with the fact that a devout Muslim was accused of being a crackhead. And until we establish the fact that they said he went to Africa to smoke cocaine when we know they don’t have running water and food over there. When they don’t have paved roads over there. You saying he flew past Chicago and Miami and LA and New York and Detroit, you saying he went past Cleveland and Fort Pierce, Florida, and he went past Okeechobee and Oakland, you saying he went all the way to another country where they not eating? You talking about somebody who has a wife and children, five children, and lives on a farm, he doesn’t live here in Hollywood. You saying you convince people that person was an insane crackhead? And he hasn’t been on movies and TV for eight years is that correct? Ok then don’t tell me about what you wanna tell me, I just watched you decapitate him in front of me… Then when he made 500 million dollars, even though his contract said he was supposed to get half of it, they said he made too much for the contract to be valid, so we’ll offer you 10% of what you made. You mean he made 500 million and they offered him 50? Yes. And he said, “what do you think my fans are gonna say? When they find out you offered me 10% of what I made you.” And they said, “your fans will believe that you’re a crazy crackhead by the time you get home. And my nigga got on a flight in LA and by the time he got to Ohio it was so. And eight years later he hasn’t been in a movie or television and is just now trying to do his real comeback in Radio City Music Hall. It’s bees like that sometimes.”

Wow. I didn’t know Dave Chappelle was Muslim 😃

Wow

I have always had respect for Dave Chappelle, he is an amazing and a very intelligent man that has been highly ripped to shreds by the media. I saw his show in Radio City Music Hall this year and he is still slaying with his mix of comedy and whit to this day.

Reblogged from Naughty Couples

mydisneystories:

tell me boy meets world wasn’t brilliant

tell me

Reblogged from I'LL ASK MY MUM

I think about this sometimes: about how messed up we all really are on the inside. How we put on this “day face” and try to just live life and be okay, but underneath all that we have all these layers of neuroses and disappointments and unresolved issues that stay dormant until they’re triggered. Not overtly, most of the time — we wouldn’t be able to function if it were overt all the time — but under. Underneath us, inside of us. Things that happened to us that changed us. Heartbreak and trauma woven into the texture of our skins.

What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger but it also makes us fucking tired.

…Of course, someone somewhere always has it worse. And I’m not going to say everyone deserves some sort of medal for getting out of bed in the morning. But damn it, when you think about all this weight that piles up on us, and all our different coping strategies (some adaptive, some not so much), and the scars we accumulate throughout our lives (everyone has them) that make us all the interesting damaged messes that we are; the way we individually experience loss and heartbreak and nothingness and push through it, we’re doing a pretty good job as humans. We do things. We go to work. We go to school. We do the laundry. We breathe. We function. We grieve and we pick ourselves up and adapt and keep going.
We keep moving, because there’s not a whole lot else to do.

— What Doesn’t Kill Us Makes Us Something (Mila Jaroniec)
I don’t know what I want to do with my life except for die but you won’t accept that as an answer so can’t we just leave it at I don’t know?
— a story by me // (via unmarks)
Reblogged from Be your own anchor.
lexischoolgirl:

truth
Reblogged from I'LL ASK MY MUM

@EmWatson: Passport control:’unaccompanied minor?’ Me:’sorry?’ Passport control:’where is ur guardian?’ Me:’I’m 22!!!!!!!’ #neverwearingabackpackagain

the-real-goddamazon:

idontcareforgob:

officialgarrusvakarian:

we-are-star-stuff:

zerostatereflex:

An Octopus unscrewing a lid from the inside.

Octopuses are going to kill us all someday

I had a biology teacher that told us this story about an octopus at an aquarium in Australia. The staff were concerned because their population of crustaceans kept disappearing. No bodies or anything. So they checked the video feed to find out what’s up.

Across from the the crustacean tank was a small octopus tank. This little fucker squeezed out of a tiny hole at the top of his tank, walk across the hall, and get into the crustacean tank. He would then hunt and eat. After he was done, he crawled back out and get back in his tank

Here’s the kicker: security guards patrolled the area. The staff realized that the octopus had memorized the security’s routine. It would escape and be back between the guards’ round.

An octopus in Germany was annoyed by a bright light shining into his tank, so he climbed up over the rim and squirted water at it to short it

Fuckin’ octopuses, man. 

Y’all think this shit is a game?