Ostrobogolous Ishkabibble
Flimflam, Hootinanny, and Shenanigans
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Two of the beautiful amazing incredible people who sang and wrote here were gunned down today, while sitting together and enjoying a beer. Another woman was killed, and two others were injured and are currently in icu. And so I propose a toast.
A toast to good friends
and to those ones who are no longer with us. -
Photoset reblogged from Come on then, Sexy.
So Friday afternoon outside the dealers room my friend Logan (Rorschach) proposed to her boyfriend Kyle (Deadpool).
He said yes, in case you were wondering. :p
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Photoset reblogged from How Are You I'm Fine Thanks
Papa… They steal our horse. Papa… They steal our horse! Papa! They steal our horse. Papa… Angry people burn our home. They burn our home! Don’t go outside. Angry people kill you.
The Fall is back on Netflix!! I know what I’m doing tonight.
I’m going to rewatch! Thank you Gingerhaze for reminding me of its incredible existence!
(Source: peakingoranges)
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Photo reblogged from GUNNERKRIGG COURT
Couldn’t find it in me to finish this, so yeah.
Uploading for Di’s sake, I guess.
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Photo reblogged from
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Photoset reblogged from Lily's Butt Art
Here’s what Anke looks like at the moment! As you can see, she hasn’t yet been painted and her hair is very unruly. However, we like how the thread looks and so we’re going to fiddle with it more. Also, her body will be remade so that adjustments can be made to her proportions and flexibility.
Also shown are some of the interchangeable faces Alexandre has made. Aren’t they neat?
How far she’s come!
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Quote reblogged from Bears and Pocketsquares
The morning air is all awash with angels …
- Richard WilburThe eyes open to a blue telephone
In the bathroom of this five-star hotel.
I wonder whom I should call? A plumber,
Proctologist, urologist, or priest?Who is most among us and most deserves
The first call? I choose my father becauseHe’s astounded by bathroom telephones.
I dial home. My mother answers. “Hey, Ma,I say, “Can I talk to Poppa?” She gasps,
And then I remember that my fatherHas been dead for nearly a year. “Shit, Mom,”
I say. “I forgot he’s dead. I’m sorry—How did I forget?” “It’s okay,” she says.
“I made him a cup of instant coffeeThis morning and left it on the table—
Like I have for, what, twenty-seven years—And I didn’t realize my mistake
Until this afternoon.” My mother laughsAt the angels who wait for us to pause
During the most ordinary of daysAnd sing our praise to forgetfulness
Before they slap our souls with their cold wings.Those angels burden and unbalance us.
Those fucking angels ride us piggyback.Those angels, forever falling, snare us
And haul us, prey and praying, into dust.Sherman Alexie, Grief calls Us to the Things of this World (via grammatolatry) -
Photo reblogged from Lord_Tristan's Tumblr Friendship Extrodinare
