the NY subway system is a jerk
I feel so betrayed right now
Solidarity, on a global scale.
BREAKING: Here’s the tweet that could lead to a new grand jury in Ferguson, MO.
#Ferguson: @shaunking took screenshot of tweeter @thesusannichols who claims to know juror on #MikeBrown #DarrenWilson grand jury & appears to be receiving leaked information. King says that within seconds of posting this, her friends told her to delete it & she did but not before it was screenshotted. She has since deleted her entire account but King says they checked & she is indeed a #STL resident w/ years’ worth of tweets from there. “If true, her tweet not only reveals a leak in the grand jury, but gives us an ugly glimpse into how things have gone so far. This person who posted it on twitter & her contact on the grand jury must be fully & completely investigated & removed if it’s true.”-@shaunking
Y’all better reblog the fuck outta this post it on facebook, twitter, IG, myspace, friendster, everything get this information out
At some point it becomes true
that all stories are love stories.
all making, love making.
I didn’t make this rule.
but it binds me all the same.
I wish there were a law against condescending against love.
against the economy of fear
that says your joy means less joy for me
as if love were pie, or money, or fossil fuel dug or pumped from the earth,
gone when it’s gone.
it’s just not true.
the heart with its gift for magnificent expansion is not coal.
not fruit set to spoil or the dollar cringing in its wallet.
when you say darling, the world lights up at its edges.
when mouths find mouths
and minds follow or minds find minds and mouths, hands, hips, toes, follow – how about you call that sacred.
how about you raise your veined right hand
and swear on the blood that branches there, yes.
I take this crush to be my lawful infatuation.
I will bend toward joy until the bending’s its own pleasure.
I will memorize photographs and street maps,
I will acquiesce to the maudlin urgency of pop songs and dance,
and dance – there’s a perfection only the impossible kiss possesses.
there are notes you can only hear naked
in the dark of a room to which you will never return.
anything that moves the world toward light is a blessing.
why not take it with both hands,
lift it to your lips like a broth of stars.
this is the substance that holds our little atoms together into bodies.
this sweet paste of longing is all that binds us to the earth.
and all we know of the gods.
Oh my god
i just started a k/s fic that’s older than i am
originally published in 1992
there’s something so special about that, that those ideas and words are all fuckin ANCIENT in relative fandom terms
white vegans be like “honey is unethical because the bees worked so hard on it that’s why I like the completely ethical alternative of sugar harvested by underpaid and abused fieldworkers”