Fever
Mad Men, Christina “Joan” Hendricks, and Francais…love.
(Source: fuckyeahraja, via fuckyeahrupaulsdragrace)
Belle Grove, Iberville Parish, Louisiana, c. 1938. Photographer: Frances B. Johnston, via LoC
1 week ago - 
12
12
(Source: jennanotjameson)
1 week ago - 3
3
1 week ago - 22
22
yessir, yessir, yessir.
2 weeks ago - 1
1
Marry you? Why, yes Mr. Crane that’d be swell.
2 weeks ago - 2
2
(Source: a-silly-little-moment, via unsureoctober)
(via fuckyeahrupaulsdragrace)
(Source: icecreamsocialism, via fuckyeahrupaulsdragrace)
TEXT: Go to Wikiquote. Load a random page. Pick the third quote. That’s the tagline on the movie poster about your life.
Well, when one’s lost, I… I suppose it’s good advice to stay where you are until someone finds you. But — but who’d ever think to look for me here?
sounds about fucking right man^ way too long for a movie poster m’kay
i got
“It’s always the same, sometimes.”
“When you’re between any kind of devil and the deep blue sea, the deep blue sea sometimes looks very inviting.”
great do i kill myself
“You lay one finger on this, Kevin, and you’ll be sucking your breakfast through a straw!”
I…
okay.
“Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will—whatever we may think.”
I like it.“There are only two things that are worse than an empty canvas: death and taxes.”
“My people are American, my time is today…music must repeat the thought and aspirations of the times.”
“Oh, my God… Anybody else wanna do this?”
“Have you ever been hit on the head with a welding mallet? No? Well, shut up, then.”“
(Source: fuckyeahrupaulsdragrace)
Names
There, in front of me, was my great grandfather and beside him was my great grandmother. Each of them is contained in a rectangular shaped box of earth and grass. The granite stone is in place above them, it is their face. It represents them together because, though their remains rest in separate containers, the stone represents them together in death. It must have been haunting for her those last nine years. In the time it took for her to leave this world, after her husband, how many times had she been here? How many times did she read her own name next to his, reach out and feel the stone beneath her fingertips, and stare into the lettering that would come to replace her? The curvature on the font is there to represent their smiles. The gray stone depicts their death and the bodies in decay below the ground. A separate stone lies at their feet, it lists their eight children, and it resembles the plaques you see in high school display cases. Their children are set as accomplishments. This is what I know of my great grandparents. I know their names as those around them knew their names. Still, I can only read the words, I never knew the way their names sounded as they spoke them to each other. I never felt the warmth and vibrancy through their vocal cords. There is a place where I can go and see what has become of them. I can look at the stone that is meant to represent two entire human beings and the complexities of two lifetimes. Still, I will never know exactly who it is I am honoring when I place the silk flowers in the heavy vase between their names. I don’t know who it is that left each of their bodies and left behind a cold stone engraved with a handful of letters and dates as if that’s supposed to mean enough to tell me all the things I want to know. I have their names and I don’t know what to do with them.
