Olivia Bee and Andrew Lyman for Yen magazine part 2 by Marisa Chafetz

god these are beautiful

I have found someone who understands the weight of the words “lets run away to…” and uses them accordingly. If that’s not dangerous for the vulnerability of my heart then I don’t know what is.

"Men’s rights activists don’t organize marches; they don’t build shelters or raise funds for abused men; they don’t organize prostate cancer-awareness events or campaign against prison rape. What they actually do, when they’re not simply carping in comments online, is target and harass women—from feminist writers and professors to activists—in an attempt to silence them."

White Hot Rage  (via ho-ho-my-lad)

(Source: swiimming)



This shitty diner is home

by: Casey Garner

I’m used to seeing photos of the Grand Haven pier reblogged across Tumblr, but seeing the Rendezvous, the shitty 24-hour greasy spoon that’s been a depressingly reliable part of my creative upbringing, is a borderline surreal experience. I’ve drank gallons of burnt coffee from barely washed Formica cups and sketched plot outlines on the backs of several dozen paper placemats. The Vous is a terrible place and I love it very much.

(Source: reorientmag)


1. I will kiss girls who remind me of Ophelia and boys why remind me of Holden Caulfield I will lick their sadness off of their lips and spit it to the pavement I will not swallow it maybe I will text them back the next morning

2. I will talk to someone new every day I am living in a beehive of adolescence a 1,000 page bildungsroman squeezed into a grassy campus I will listen to all the stories I can fit into my brain when it overflows I will go to sleep and try again tomorrow

3. I will fall in love with that tall, thin girl with newly died strawberry hair who I ate ice cream with under a tree, with the blonde girl with athlete’s shoulders and a swoop of apathy under one eye who grew beans in a greenhouse that she designed with 3D printing software, with the tiny old woman who works in the psychology department and who looked at me like a pearl in an oyster when I told her I loved cognitive science, with the boy who wondered aloud why everyone is always following a path and then proceeded to run barefoot down a grassy hill even though he had no idea where he was going. A year from now I will love them all, right now I don’t even know their names.

4. I will learn the names of all the constellations and the wildflowers and the bugs and ducks and snails I will impress people with how beautiful the world is and I will teach them that sometimes being part of this earth means picking up an almanac, means asking questions like “what’s that beetle called?”

5. I will read hungrily everything assigned and recommended to me

6. I will do the typical college things: I will funnel beer I will question my existence I will sleep through class I will change my ideologies I will disappoint my parents I will start an underground movement I will buy cheap vodka I will buy and old military jacket I will buy forgiveness I will liberate myself I will wonder who I am I will funnel beer


six goals for my first year of college (via porn4smartgirls)

January 10th / sunrise and sunset

(Source: grandmabread)


the illusion of a self


the illusion of a self

The past five days have not only been a testament by comparison to how unhappy I didn’t realize I had become, but also a reminder of how much laughter is able to fit inside of me. I am very grateful for that.



I’m selling prints of these here!

Last night, Katie asked me what song I would choose to listen to in the last few minutes of my life. Kind of like if that song were to be a countdown and when it was over, I would cease to exist in the same way I do now. After a few minutes of thinking, I decided pretty solidly on Ocean by John Butler (specifically the version he played at Rothbury, because every time is a little different). Katie hadn’t heard it before so we sat together in silence and listened to all eleven minutes of it. Those eleven minutes somehow unfolded into a spiritual, romantic, religious, whatever you want to call it experience that left my heart racing in my chest and the whole universe welling up inside of me. 

It was raining outside and the lightning and thunder were picking up the more and more the song played. The gas on the stove in the kitchen clicked on seven times right in tempo as someone was lighting a burner. The ceiling fan seemed like it was speeding up as the music was. There were climaxes and reliefs and I couldn’t help my face from cracking into a smile as everything was building. I looked over at Katie more than once and it seemed like she was somewhere in the same neighborhood as I was. As the song was coming to the end, which I didn’t know exactly when would happen, all I could think was, “What if this is it? What if when the music stops any second now, I just die, or disappear, or move on to what’s next, or cease to exist all together?!” If someone thinks the universe could end over one single heartbreak in the way it was told in some story I heard about, the effect of all of our souls being tied to one another, then why not over this imploding sensation of excitement and fear and absolute bliss? The world as I was seeing it was a million miles away: the living room I was sitting in, the laughter in the kitchen, the cars on the street, the rain on the roof, the heart beat in my own chest. What if all of it just vanished?

But of course it didn’t (or maybe not so much “of course”), The song ended, and I blinked my way back to the body I exist in and would continue to exist in and the world kept turning. But for all I cared, for a good handful of minutes, I was perfectly okay with not returning to that, not in a sadistic, cruel way, just one of acceptance and absolute understanding. I was okay with it all.

After sitting on that for a long very restless night and most of today, I realized that I have these kinds of experiences somewhat regularly. Not every week, but maybe more often than I sometimes realize.  I remember it happening when I was laying on the floor of the Gus Bus on the way to Oregon when I was tackling the big scary world for the first time on my own and I was trying to sleep but couldn’t because I was so overwhelmed by all of all the excitement inside of me. And I remember it happening the first time I jumped into icy cold fresh water pools that were right down the road from where I was living in Hawaii, the cold sucked the breath right out of my chest and I was laughing so hysterically that I almost couldn’t keep my head above the water and it started to pour on me while I was floating and it was so… something. It was something. And the same feeling came last night when I was just sitting in my living room with a really great friend realizing that I was okay with death, I was excited about the unknown of it.

These are probably the closest things to religious experience I think that I will ever get. Because I feel like if god comes from anywhere, it comes from within myself.