The Latest

Aug 23, 2014 / 285 notes

abu-macintosh:

Racism is tolerated by the world when it is against Muslims.

mewl:

Death Valley, CA by Daria Riabchenko on Flickr.
Aug 23, 2014 / 44 notes

mewl:

Death Valley, CA by Daria Riabchenko on Flickr.

(via 50c)

Aug 23, 2014 / 3,265 notes

(via 50c)

boyirl:

Sergei Isupov
Aug 22, 2014 / 936 notes
"Just let that shit sink in."
Aug 22, 2014

"Just let that shit sink in."

We live in a cesspool, a septic tank, a gigantic sewage complex in which runs the dregs, the filth, the misery-laden slop of the race of men: his hatred, prejudices, passions, and violence. And the keeper of this sewer: man. He is a scientifically advanced monkey who walks upright, with eyes wide open into an abyss of his own making. His bombs, fallout, poisons, radioactivity, everything he designs as an art, for dying is his excuse for living. We live in an exquisite bedlam; an insanity. Maybe all the more grotesque by the fact that we don’t recognize it as insanity.
The Twilight Zone 'No Time Like The Past' (1963)

This is the sum total of everything Michael Gira has ever written, in one paragraph.

(via travellersinspaceandtime)

Aug 22, 2014 / 54 notes
pitchfork:

Aphex Twin announces SYRO, his first proper album in 13 years.
Aug 22, 2014 / 1,578 notes
Aug 22, 2014 / 729 notes

(via schlurb)

Aug 22, 2014 / 49 notes
Aug 22, 2014 / 14,823 notes
jessicamaccormackrmack:

Marina’s landscape art.
Aug 22, 2014 / 275 notes

jessicamaccormackrmack:

Marina’s landscape art.

(via bullettmagazine)

fuckyouverymuch:

We like your freckles. 
Aug 22, 2014 / 326 notes

fuckyouverymuch:

We like your freckles. 

fuckyouverymuch:

We want to move.
Aug 22, 2014 / 265 notes

fuckyouverymuch:

We want to move.

Aug 22, 2014 / 2,871 notes

(via anus)

We live together, we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstance we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone. Embraced, the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self-transcendence; in vain. By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude.
Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception (1954)

(via borzage)

Aug 22, 2014 / 273 notes