April152014
“I still can’t remember
how to make coffee for one.
So I drink for two,
but all I taste is you.” My Hands Shake Without You by Robi Foli  (via stre55ed)

(Source: veganbullshit, via jemexcusemaman)

5AM

Sigur Rós | The Rains Of Castamere (Music from “Game Of Thrones” 04x02 “The Lion And The Rose”)

(Source: ilivefortheapplause, via diary-of-a-flannel-lover)

(5,840 plays)

April132014

anthonyaaa:

l0uderthanb0mbs:

track of the day #10

the black keys - fever

the black keys have finally dropped a new track and it’s absolutely brilliant

So fucking good.

(via coffeeandkerouac)

(55,024 plays)

4PM
palaceofsymbols:

Alphonse Mucha, Salammbô, 1896.
The fin de siècle in France is known retrospectively as la Belle Époque – the Beautiful Era, the time anticipating the 1900 Exposition Universelle, the time before the War. When we peer through the mists of imaginative history, the era is illuminated by a magical glow. It was always a lush twilight, Montmarte was flooded with geniuses and bohemians, the cafés lit by those charming globe-shaped lamps, the cuisine was haute and absinthe flowed from the fountains, the scent of Grasset’s flowers and the tinkling of Debussy and Satie wafted through the air, all the actresses were Sarah Bernhardt, all the can-can dancers were Toulouse-Lautrecs, all the men were Sem’s quipping dandies sporting green carnations to match their Pernod and all the wine-warm laughing ladies in the cabarets had hair made of twining Mucha whiplash lines, all their jewelry was Lalique, all the furniture was Majorelle and unfurled itself in organic floral curves, even all the posters pasted on the buildings were bright and beautiful Art Nouveau advertising the gay nightlife of the City of Light.
This was the same city Jean Lorrain called the Poisoned City. This beautiful era was also the reign of the Decadence, languidly awaiting the Apocalypse on the deathbed of history, disgusted and exhausted by all the crass gaiety, seeing in every woman a femme fatale and in every man a syphilitic Sodomite, and fleeing into dreams, drugs or the occult. We see the two faces of the fin de siècle meet at times, in Mucha for example, here taking the incense, flowers and peacock feathers of Symbolism’s favorite Flaubert heroine and rendering them in the bold-lined, glowing, graphic style that assured his fame as a master Art Nouveau confectioner.  

palaceofsymbols:

Alphonse Mucha, Salammbô, 1896.

The fin de siècle in France is known retrospectively as la Belle Époque – the Beautiful Era, the time anticipating the 1900 Exposition Universelle, the time before the War. When we peer through the mists of imaginative history, the era is illuminated by a magical glow. It was always a lush twilight, Montmarte was flooded with geniuses and bohemians, the cafés lit by those charming globe-shaped lamps, the cuisine was haute and absinthe flowed from the fountains, the scent of Grasset’s flowers and the tinkling of Debussy and Satie wafted through the air, all the actresses were Sarah Bernhardt, all the can-can dancers were Toulouse-Lautrecs, all the men were Sem’s quipping dandies sporting green carnations to match their Pernod and all the wine-warm laughing ladies in the cabarets had hair made of twining Mucha whiplash lines, all their jewelry was Lalique, all the furniture was Majorelle and unfurled itself in organic floral curves, even all the posters pasted on the buildings were bright and beautiful Art Nouveau advertising the gay nightlife of the City of Light.

This was the same city Jean Lorrain called the Poisoned City. This beautiful era was also the reign of the Decadence, languidly awaiting the Apocalypse on the deathbed of history, disgusted and exhausted by all the crass gaiety, seeing in every woman a femme fatale and in every man a syphilitic Sodomite, and fleeing into dreams, drugs or the occult. We see the two faces of the fin de siècle meet at times, in Mucha for example, here taking the incense, flowers and peacock feathers of Symbolism’s favorite Flaubert heroine and rendering them in the bold-lined, glowing, graphic style that assured his fame as a master Art Nouveau confectioner.  

(via fuckyeahalphonsemucha)

3PM
“Hemingway and James Joyce were drinking buddies in Paris. Joyce was thin and bespectacled; Hemingway was tall and strapping. When they went out Joyce would get drunk, pick a fight with a bigger guy in the bar and then hide behind Hemingway and yell, “Deal with him, Hemingway. Deal with him.””

[x]

Between this and the story about him reassuring F. Scott Fitzgerald re dick size, I’m developing a picture of Hemingway as the mother hen of the disaffected white male literary set of the early 20th century.

He probably called up Steinbeck sometimes and was like I CAN’T EVEN WITH THESE DIPSHITS and Steinbeck was all “That’s what you get for living in Paris, asshole”.

(via tiger-milk)

(Source: newzerokaneda, via coffeeandkerouac)

9AM
7AM

cherrispryte:

penguinperversion:

mlloydart:

Chalk Art by David Zinn

I love this.

The world is in need of more beautiful weirdness like this.

(via thelifeofanartschoolstudent)

7AM
ftlouis:

swedish is a very beautiful and deep language

ftlouis:

swedish is a very beautiful and deep language

(via reane-m)

April112014
April82014
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