newshour:

More than 800 college campuses are swapping “No means no” for “Yes means yes.”
Learn more.

Only ONE of my sexual partners has ever explicitly asked for my consent, it was THE SEXIEST THING, and I HIGHLY recommend it. 

newshour:

More than 800 college campuses are swapping “No means no” for “Yes means yes.”

Learn more.

Only ONE of my sexual partners has ever explicitly asked for my consent, it was THE SEXIEST THING, and I HIGHLY recommend it. 

nprmusic:

Sleater-Kinney announce new album, share song. Carrie Brownstein tells us the time was right to reunite

Photo: Brigitte Sire

HELLO
I AM FREAKING OUT

wearepioneerspress:

oct311983:

i want to start reading zines and stuff like adam gnade but my mom probably will decline my request to buy something including the words “big motherfucking sad” on the front cover

There’s a little package of ziney stuff on the way to you as we speak! 

Pioneers Press is what I want to be when I grow up.

padialogue:

I’M SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING A PAPER

THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PHOTOSET

(Source: gypsyastronaut)

(Source: saraphism)

he;s trying to get me to look at him, i can tell. he’s hitting an empty water bottle against the side of his laptop. i’m not going to. he’s an idiot. i took my glasses off. what a fool. 

also there’s an extremely horrible hot guy sitting directly across from me

like all broody bedroom eyes and putting his feet up on the furniture, making way too much noise in a LETTERMAN JACKET i hate him. 

vivianemae:

w-a-h-a-l-a:

lust-in-her-eyes:

pinkvelourtracksuit:

beyonce-huxtable:

nigeah:

yungmamita:

mainheaux:

OH MY GOD

THE CHOREOGRAPHY AND THE FACT THAT THE HAT STAYED ON THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE THING HAVE TOTALLY STUNNED ME

The end!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YESSSSS

omggggggggggggg!!!!!! 

Girl at the end was everything

Last girl slayed my life

Seriously chillllls

hiiiii i’m SOBBING over this in the “Language Science” building on campus lololol ollol 

but actually

(Source: fatheaux)

Ilana + adoring Abbi

(Source: byunca)

Three weeks in your heart keeps breaking
Your heart is still broken, continues to rend itself, slip and shred and rift on rib. Heavy, leaden, but drippy and soft and leaking gore: your broken heart as you lay your head down, your broken heart at Bank and at Holborn and at Tottenham Court Road. Your broken heart breaking. You, breaking your broken heart. Cracking it, egg of muscle, on the south bank. Cracking it, bloody egg into the Thames. 

I miss the sound a baseball makes as it breaks the bat. I miss the bay, the grey surface of the water, Mt. Sutro (disembodied boat) rearing up in the fog. I miss beer in tall glasses, ERIC laughing behind the bar, and I miss cigarettes on Fell, looking D in the eyes. I miss that achilles tendon. I miss the electrical wire, and the blue hard hats, and the fog horn. Tonight I miss the fog horn most of all. 


I would do anything to ride my bicycle to the lake. I would smother myself with my bare hands to hear your voice. I would suck on the joints in your shoulder and make you call my name out underwater. You, not talking: I’m listening through your ribs to your blood. I’m untethered and heavy. A hand with three fingers up inside my sternum: lifting up and out and hunched. Just off the floor, my feet, my tired feet. 

In thick, in mess, in ache for otherwheres, I take myself west. As far into this place as I can. To the heart of it, where it beats loudest and drowns.

image

Performing social acts of meaning —

ie, your exhaustion (glorification of the voice.)

I don’t have anything that I haven’t already put here. How much is there? How much can there be? I rode the underground and I thought about the underground and the station I took it to and from is so far underground that you have to take an elevator to the surface and I really don’t like that, I don’t, inversion. I run along the canal in the mornings- east and then south east and then northwest and then north and then south and then I’m home and I still haven’t actually figured any of that out yet. I still don’t know where my body is in space and that makes me nervous, that doesn’t actually make me nervous, it just makes me feel careless. What will I do tomorrow? What can I do?

What can I do but try to be good to myself?