Calvin’s snowmen are breathtaking achievements and I will accept no disputes

I freaking love Calvin’s snowmen

They forgot the best one though!


(Source: eros-turannos, via catiebat)

John Lennon and Yoko Ono photographed by Linda McCartney.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono photographed by Linda McCartney.

(Source: alrightgeorge, via thescarlettwitch)

Cap'n Jazz – Little League (2,065 plays)

Hey coffee eyes

You got me coughin’ up my cookie heart

Makin’ promises to myself

Promises like seeds of everything I could be

(Source: sexhaver, via thescarlettwitch)

A WONDERFUL PUNK FROM THE INTERNET hooked me up with BTMI’s final show SOLD out tickets, and was super rad and offered them for face-value and after a shit week (like having my iphone stolen by some middle schoolers) - this was so so wonderful and meant so much to me, and damn i don’t think even i’m prepared for the waterfall of beers and tears that i will be responsible for at this show. 

the other reason i’m not using this tumblr anymore: because i am living in constant paranoia about this guy who won’t stop trying to contact me even after i got my school’s fucking security involved. 40+ emails, fake Facebook accounts, Facebook msgs - i took it as a joke when it first started, but now i don’t know if i’m paranoid or semi-losing what’s left of my mind.

seriously, fuck off. 

made a new tumblr so if a new blog that is also basically fangirling btmi and reblogging pictures of pugs starts to follow you - that’s me. or you can msg me for my new one. 

Bomb the Music Industry!: HERE COME THE WATERWORKS...


This is a weird thing to write that I don’t want to write. But it was agreed on that it would be “mean” if I didn’t… I’ve been putting it off all day, and now that the record collection is alphabetized, all mail-order is done, and my groceries are color-coded seems like I gotta do it. (EDIT: I…

i can’t really explain how much this band means to me without sounding incredibly lame and cheesy. but here’s me trying: the first time i saw btmi! i was 17, a college freshman, just 2 months into living in the city and by then, it had already lost its glamour for me. i didn’t know anybody, shit, i barely knew myself. after days of deliberating, i decided i couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see them even if i had no one to go with. it was my first time taking the L, my first time in brooklyn, my first time stopping at sketchy bodegas to ask for directions - but i fumbled through it all by myself. it took me 15 minutes of standing across the street from the rundown apartment building with dudes knocking back PBRs in paper bags outside to convince myself that this was “the glass door” venue that i had carefully google-mapped earlier. i almost turned around to go home. but at some point i got my hands x’d with sharpies, and went in. and thank god i did.

i was greeted by a smokey haze carrying the distinctive smell of stale beer and cigarettes. i nodded my head to failures union, chotto ghetto, and cheap girls. then btmi! came out and there was this surge of energy in the audience. suddenly i was pressed up against the sweaty back of the guy in front of me, shouting “nice going, asshole!” in his ear with jeff rosenstock, i was dancing with strangers, i was trading spit and bruises and sweat with people i didn’t know anything about other than that we all loved this band. and for the first time in 2 months in this city, i felt connected to it. somewhere in between “stand there til’ you’re sober” and “stuff that i like” i found my voice. somewhere in between sweaty bodies and stepped-on toes i found my friends. somewhere in that tiny, graffiti-lined, brooklyn apartment i found my sense of belonging. 

it’s been three years, and i’ve seen them at least ten times since - never again at the glass door though, and never again alone. and every time i see them, i come home with that same feeling i did that first night as i walked back to the L train - renewed, a little more positive, a little more ready to take on the shit life throws at you, a little more me. and maybe that’s why the smell of stale beer and cigarettes on a fall night makes me ache with nostalgia, and maybe that’s why scrambles can bring me to tears. and maybe that’s why, hearing my favorite band might be going on their last tour means a lot more to me than i can put into words. 


Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation


Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

(Source: aseaofquotes, via rajkumaris)

one of the reasons i’ve stuck with tumblr for so long is because its like a documentation of  those fleeting feelings and moments that i probably would’ve forgotten otherwise; the post-show blues after seeing btmi!, the small bursts of affection in learning someone has more in common me with me than i thought, the out of nowhere moments where time and life and the world seem infinite. looking back at these posts, these feelings those moments seem entirely foreign, even contrived. 

i’ve been digging a hole for 8 months now, and at this point i’ve pretty much cut myself off from everyone and everything i knew and loved without explanation, to sit at home existing in a state between sleeping and watching trash reality TV. its like i’ve forgotten how to be myself (which sounds teenage-angsty, i know but i can’t think of another way to describe it). i thought by isolating myself, that maybe i could preserve whatever little of me left there was. but i found out, all of me and who i am is invested in the people i love, and losing those human connections, i’ve lost all the best pieces of myself with them. i’m trying to pick up the pieces again, it’s nice to remember what is was like to be whole.

(via lessons-in-romanticss-deactivat)