(Source: giraffebones)

This is a completely heterosexual photograph.

http://www.opacity.us/gallery57_vines.htm

Here are some very interesting pictures of Glenn Dale Hospital, a sanatorium here in Maryland where my dad’s grandmother spent a few years in the thirties (she had TB). She left behind a great deal of photos from her stay, in which the hospital was brand new and everything was intact. Now it’s all overgrown and crumbling, and most of the buildings/grounds are completely closed to visitors due to structural problems and asbestos. I don’t know how the hell this guy managed to get so many cool shots of the place. I’ve been once, but only to the outside grounds.

I need to start playing jazz violin and sniff out a Gypsy Jazz guitarist, so we can be Django and Stéphane together.

This apple-scented Yankee Candle is DEE LIGHT FULL, why am I choosing to use Tumblr so much tonight

penrose-stairs:

geiger-counter:

I live about an hour away from The Fitzgeralds’ grave, yet I’ve never been. I can go ahead and add that to the list of Places I Should Visit But Probably Won’t Even Though They’re Nearby. Why are they buried in Rockville, anyway?

I’m from Rockville, MD. I plan on visiting their grave when I return home from uni.

I’m from scenic ‘n’ beautiful Accokeek, and I’ll be going to college less than thirty minutes from Rockville, so I’ll have absolutely no excuse to not pay a visit (other than laziness) (which isn’t an acceptable excuse).

Wednesday night was The Highfalutin Convocation, in which I was named Val and Casey (R) was named Sal, and we were given ONE DAMN NIGHT to crank out rough drafts of our speeches. So we were texting each other at midnight or thereabouts, whining about how our drafts were terrible, and I suggested that we swap speeches and critique each other’s. So Casey sent me her email address, which was @comcast.net, but since I had the equivalent of a .07 BAC due to Extreme Tiredness, I accidentally emailed my speech to the same screen name @gmail.com. When I realized what I’d done, I quickly emailed the Gmail person again, saying “I don’t know if you exist, but if you do - that was a mistake. Sorry.”

To my absolute surprise, they actually sent me a response the next day, saying this: “Though an accidental send, I took it upon myself to read. For what it’s worth, I think it is excellent. Much better than the speech given at my high school graduation. Good luck!”

It was quite nice and exciting to find that a random person in the world actually enjoyed my writing.

I live about an hour away from The Fitzgeralds’ grave, yet I’ve never been. I can go ahead and add that to the list of Places I Should Visit But Probably Won’t Even Though They’re Nearby. Why are they buried in Rockville, anyway?

I can exercise my mediocre writing skills, or I can lie deflated on my window-seat for the next four hours.

justira:

“What a Piece of Work is Man”: Reflection on Masculinity and Gender Perceptions (Men With “Lady” Hair)

All of these hairdos are ugly, regardless of who’s wearing them. Even though I know that’s not the point.