a good book has no ending

If you haven’t heard, 75 people were killed today in rioting at an Egyptian soccer match.

Hundreds more were injured, and the players had to barricade themselves in their dressing rooms as they watched people die right in front of them.

It sickens me that this could happen at a football match. It sickens me that it could happen anywhere, but especially in a country with such a volatile political and military climate. The families of the victims will have nowhere near the necessary level of support and information.

And as a Liverpool fan, I am instantly, viscerally reminded of the footage of Hillsborough I’ve seen. This is an entirely different situation, but these deaths are no less relevant than those of the 96.

Please, please keep the families and friends of the victims in your thoughts, as well as the countless others affected in some way by this tragedy. This goes far beyond the game—much farther, and to a darker place than anyone at a football stadium should ever see.

4 hours ago -

4

Un’aura amorosa del nostro tesoro, un dolce ristoro al cor porgerà; al cor che, nudrito da speme, da amore, di un’esca migliore bisogno non ha.

6 hours ago

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

peopleafraidtomerge:

tawny:andrewmcclain:

the boys are back in town/ignition (remix) by the mountain goats
(thin lizzy/r. kelly cover)

see also: selections from 2003’s forum-board masterpiece “100 Reasons Why “Ignition - Remix” Is So Damned Great,” by John Darnielle

this is flawless

Wait for the fucking R. Kelly part.

such passion

how can one chorus so perfectly describe the human condition?

1 day ago -

60

You can have your Federers, or your Jeters, or your Mannings—whoever. This guy right here is the epitome of class and hard work for me, and is a stellar example for any young athlete in any sport.

(I have a lot of ~feelings about Lucas, in case you couldn’t tell.)

(Source: josephine-w)

2 days ago -

19

Every day God pats my head and calls me
angel, his little broken woman
and gives me flowers as if I hadn’t had enough of these
and I choke back my rage and he mistakes this
for distress as I stand there shaking
in my little sackcloth dress.

Had I ever the choice
I’d have worn a very different dress,
slit from breast to navel and far too tight
and I’d have smoked and sworn and been
out of my head on drugs, not grief, and the flowers
would have been a tattoo around my ankle,
not an anchor to drag me down, and as for
being a virgin, I’d have slept with both men and women.

I would never recommend a shallow stream
and what was no more than a daisy chain
as being the ideal way to die.
It was far too pretty but I had to improvise
and I was a poet, far more so than him,
who threw out every word he ever thought
as if that might have kept his sorry life afloat.

I didn’t drown by accident. I was a suicide.
At least let me call my mind my own
even when my heart was gone beyond recall.

Today, a car crash might have been my final scene,
a black Mercedes in a tunnel by the Seine,
with no last words, no poetry,
with flashbulbs tearing at my broken body
because broken was the way I felt inside,
the cameras lighting up the wreckage of a life.
That would, at least, have been an honest way to die.

Tracey Herd, “Ophelia’s Confession”

4 days ago -

14

hippieashley:

ivemissedsomething:

The first and last time they say goodbye to each other face to face…

;____;

oh god oh god it’s the same room and the same door but opposite who’s leaving and don’t mind me, just in the corner crying a little

someone hold me

(Source: wittyspoilers)

4 days ago -

4854

Lord Frederick Leighton (1830-1896)PavoniaOil on canvas1858-1859

Lord Frederick Leighton (1830-1896)
Pavonia
Oil on canvas
1858-1859

(via fuckyeahpreraphaelites)

4 days ago -

449

a good book has no ending

If you haven’t heard, 75 people were killed today in rioting at an Egyptian soccer match.

Un’aura amorosa ﻿del nostro tesoro, un dolce ristoro al cor porgerà; al cor che, nudrito da speme, da amore, di un’esca migliore bisogno non ha.

Un’aura amorosa del nostro tesoro, un dolce ristoro al cor porgerà; al cor che, nudrito da speme, da amore, di un’esca migliore bisogno non ha.