December 2010
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Sonnet 104
To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’d In process of the seasons have I seen, Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. Ah,...
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In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible...
– Albert Camus
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FINALS DONE, BITCHES.
Sweet, sweet Freedom never tasted so good. WAHOOOOOOO awwww yeeeeeeeah
let the revelry begin.
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e-pic:
this short forever and ever and ever.
OH.MY.GOD.
Paul McCartney. YES.
and those outfits=perfection.
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And with a green and yellow melancholy she sat like patience on a monument,...
– Viola, Twelfth Night
God, The Shakespeare Project was beautiful. Can’t wait to do it next year.
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Oh dear God. This is getting a bit ridiculous.
I really need to stop sleeptalking and/or sleepwalking. I could really make some incriminating confessions. It’s really kind of embarrassing. My sleeping patterns this year are just way too bizarre.
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Since this was an evening of throwbacks...
The best, (and last), picture I ever took at that school. I’d say mission accomplished.
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~special edition~
enarkos:
listen to my radiohe show, “Fireworks & Hurricanes” tonight from 9-11 pm!
http://kvrx.org/listen
if youre in Austin then tune in on 91.7 FM, and if you arent then just click that link above
!!!!!!!
Made my night, bb. Props on the tunes and it is pretty cool to listen from thousands of miles away. Yay for a lot of the gang listening in from all over the country tonight and being...
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Love had meant to him nothing but sawdust and cinders. The joys he had of it tasted insipid in the extreme. He marvelled how he could have gone through with it without yawning. For as he looked the thickness of his blood melted; the ice turned to wine in his veins; he heard the waters flowing and the birds singing; spring broke over the hard wintry landscape; his manhood woke; he grasped a sword...
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My role in society, or any artist’s or poet’s role, is to try and express what...
– John Lennon (via kakumei)
Ok, mini sidebar: When I was about ten years old, my parents took us to the MOMA in Houston to see an exhibit primarily by Yoko, but with pieces she created with John. Some of it was bizarre, very surreal, and some even a bit pornographic. But, being the precocious kid...
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enarkos:
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Harry Potter and the one with Radiohead and David Tennant
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
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THIS WOULD HAPPEN TO ME
Tumblr finally goes back online when I finally sit down to write a paper which is due tomorrow. FUCK. Well, there goes my sleep.