“If at the close of a particularly stressful evening—winter, summer, or spring; but never autumn—a feeling of anxiety begins to bloom within your chest, corresponding with the usurping of the sun by night; remind yourself to stay calm and remember the infinite cyclicality of all things: life; knowledge; the vocal durability of syllables throughout disparate languages, both alive and lost;”
— _NEW STORY POSTED: “Misericordia” by Michael Duran. WhiskeyPaper, May 2014.
1:41 pm • 18 May 2014 • 3 notes
“A flock of geese flies over us, honking loudly. I’m so fucking glad it’s finally spring, I want to scream.”
— Leesa Cross-Smith, “Hem” from Every Kiss A War (via merryburningparty)
9:37 am • 16 May 2014 • 12 notes
While campaigning for his brother Robert Kennedy stops for lunch in Bluefield West Virginia, 1960.
9:17 pm • 11 May 2014 • 1,268 notes
“He looked like a decade-older version of the generically suburban kid from one of the more Adderall-friendly prep schools she’d met in Boston in the parking lot of a Dave Matthews concert, whose generically obnoxious friends had called him “Jordie” and who’d made a weak attempt to sell her a sheet of acid that was clearly a strip of candy buttons; the only thing missing today was the hemp necklace containing a specific number of quartz healing crystals.”
— _NEW STORY POSTED: “Either Way We’re All Getting Eaten” by Chris Vola. WhiskeyPaper, May 2014.
10:10 am • 11 May 2014 • 1 note