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!