laughingsquid:

Self-Portraits in Awkward Body Positions & Odd Scenarios

nevver:

Bukowski

By  Gabriela Celeste, Kyla Moran for “Stroll.”

vanityfair:

The Royal-Baby-Themed Newsweek Covers That Will Sadly Never Be

Illustration by Hamish Robertson

(Source: frejabehalove)

paganlovefest:

Denise Nestor

buzzfeedlgbt:

14 Intimate Portraits Of People Living With HIV And AIDS. For nearly a year, Jo Ann Santangelo documented the stories of people living in Austin, TX in effort to reduce the stigma associated with the virus. 

Gina

Gina tested positive for HIV in 1986. That year she was arrested for prostitution after she took a ride from an under cover cop and he pressured her to perform oral sex on him. While in jail she tested positive for HIV. They told her they weren’t sure and not to worry about it. So, she didn’t until 1991 when she broke out in a rash and was re-tested and diagnosed with AIDS. “When your a transexual you go through so much stuff, so much hate, so much rejection…I was sad, I was, I was like oh girl no time to be sad, you gotta keep a roof over your head.”

Gina has been living with AIDS for 21 years.

[more]

showslow:

Li Hui is a self-taught Chinese photographer who creates moody, often double-exposed, dreamscapes using a couple film cameras: Nikon FM2 & a light-leaked Canon AT-1. What apparently started off as a hobby to fend off loneliness, has turned in to a career.

For more images, take a look at Li Hui’s Flickr.

lacarpa:

Rosa

by Édgar MT

"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words."

Robert Frost (via praytell)

(Source: virtutes-vitia)

bohemea:

Fiona Apple postpones tour dates to be with her ailing dog Janet

It’s 6pm on Friday, and I’m writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I am writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.
Here’s the thing.
I have a dog Janet, and she’s been ill for almost two years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She’s almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then, an adult officially - and she was my child.
She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.
She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.
She’s almost 14 and I’ve never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She’s a pacifist.
Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact.
We’ve lived in numerous houses, and jumped a few make shift families, but it’s always really been the two of us.
She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.
She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me all the time we recorded the last album.
The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she’s used to me being gone for a few weeks every 6 or 7 years.
She has Addison’s Disease, which makes it dangerous for her to travel since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and to excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.
Despite all of this, she’s effortlessly joyful and playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago.
She’s my best friend and my mother and my daughter, my benefactor, and she’s the one who taught me what love is.
I can’t come to South America. Not now.
When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.
She doesn’t even want to go for walks anymore.
I know that she’s not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That’s why they are so much more present than people.
But I know that she is coming close to point where she will stop being a dog, and instead, be part of everything. She’ll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.
I just can’t leave her now, please understand.
If I go away again, I’m afraid she’ll die and I won’t have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.
Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes to pick which socks to wear to bed.
But this decision is instant.
These are the choices we make, which define us.
I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love and friendship.
I am the woman who stays home and bakes Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend.
And helps her be comfortable, and comforted, and safe, and important.
Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life, that keeps us feeling terrified and alone.
I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time.
I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.
I need to do my damnedest to be there for that.
Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I’ve ever known.
When she dies.
So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and reveling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel.
And I am asking for your blessing.

I’ll be seeing you.
Love, Fiona

britticisms:

“Whatnot” by Machinedrum 

This was the year I discovered Machinedrum. This was the year I fell in love with Machinedrum, the year everything Machinedrum released made sense, the year when it was all Machinedrum all the time always. So prolific throughout this year, it’s nice to hear him come back to that signature gorgeous, brooding aesthetic that makes his music so compelling in the first place. 

(via lifecrushed)