ass-tronomer:

ass-tronomer:

Yesterday when I was in between flights after I had been throwing up we were walking through the airport terminal and my mum was going “I just don’t know what brought this all on!!” and I said “I think it was the inflight food… It was all a little bit plane” and then I laughed so hard that I threw up again

Why is no one reblogging this its gold

therefined:

“Because sending a letter is the next best thing to showing up personally at someone’s door. Ink from your pen touches the stationary, your fingers touch the paper, your saliva seals the envelope, your scent graces the paper. Something tangible from your world travels through machines and hands, and deposits itself in another’s mailbox; their world. Your letter is then carried inside as an invited guest. The paper that was sitting on your desk, now sits on another’s. The recipient handles the paper that you handled. Letters create a connection that modern and impersonal forms of communication will never replace.”

dopefxntasy:

giveitawhirl:

Why don’t the seats in the trains near me face the windows!?!?! I’ve always strained my neck looking to the side during my rides. This is glorious.

We need this

dopefxntasy:

giveitawhirl:

Why don’t the seats in the trains near me face the windows!?!?! I’ve always strained my neck looking to the side during my rides. This is glorious.

We need this

We are just trying to figure each other out.

officially my all time favorite post

This is real in a sense that
most men are only into a woman’s body where as the woman wants to know the mans mind.

fishingboatproceeds:

chicagopubliclibrary:

Ernest Hemingway’s Macho Letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald

H/T to The Daily Beast.

Dear Scott—

We are going in to Pamplona tomorrow. Been trout fishing here. How are you? And how is Zelda?

I am feeling better than I’ve ever felt—havent drunk any thing but wine since I left Paris. God it has been wonderful country. But you hate country. All right omit description of country. I wonder what your idea of heaven would be—A beautiful vacuum filled with wealthy monogamists, all powerful and members of the best families all drinking themselves to death. And hell would probably [be] an ugly vacuum full of poor polygamists unable to obtain booze or with chronic stomach disorders that they called secret sorrows.

To me heaven would be a big bull ring with me holding two barrera seats and a trout stream outside that no one else was allowed to fish in and two lovely houses in the town; one where I would have my wife and children and be monogamous and love them truly and well and the other where I would have my nine beautiful mistresses on 9 different floors and one house would be fitted up with special copies of the Dial printed on soft tissue and kept in the toilets on every floor and in the other house we would use the American Mercury and the New Republic.* Then there would be a fine church like in Pamplona where I could go and be confessed on the way from one house to the other and I would get on my horse and ride out with my son to my bull ranch named Hacienda Hadley and toss coins to all my illegitimate children that lined the road. I would write out at the Hacienda and send my son in to lock the chastity belts onto my mistresses because someone had just galloped up with the news that a notorious monogamist named Fitzgerald had been seen riding toward the town at the head of a company of strolling drinkers.

Well anyway were going into town tomorrow early in the morning. Write me at the

Hotel Quintana

Pamplona

Spain

Or dont you like to write letters. I do because it’s such a swell way to keep from working and yet feel you’ve done something.

So Long and love to Zelda from us both—

Yours,

Ernest

"A beautiful vacuum filled with wealthy monogamists."

My God was Hemingway good at making fun of Fitzgerald. It might’ve been Hemingway’s greatest talent.

supersonicart:

Miranda Meeks.

Incredible illustrations by Miranda Meeks:

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