(via the-little-gypsy-wife)

cerealguycomic:

Cereal Guy - But none of you are smart

brighton girls

it really does.

(via whereareallthesourpatchparents)

six-little-milk-teeth:

I’ve decided to build a metal heart
beating steel that sounds rhythmic
even when it’s not
it’ll weigh me down
and wake me up with clanking metallic sounds

I’ll trade this human complication
for an on paper mechanical simplification
step-by-step guide
of a detailed how to survive

I…

(via knives-of-summertime-deactivate)

The problem with Del Rey is this: her song is actually bloody good. Music bloggers agree almost unanimously: the voice, lyrics, arrangements, melody – it’s all there. Video Games is an earworm which will surely top both mainstream charts and trendy bloggers’ top tens this year. This leaves us in a conundrum. Becoming a fan of an artist is like embarking on a relationship. We commit to them, they comfort and support us. We open our wallets, they’re there for the dancing and the tears. We overlook their bad habits or dodgy political views because we want to grow old with them. But Lana Del Rey in her current incarnation would be the girl your mother warns you about. We simply don’t know how much of her is real or not and it would be difficult to put our trust in her if it’s true she’s a hologram concealing a load of greedy, soulless record executives in suits.

But is there anything so wrong with pop stars self-embellishing? Bob Dylan created his own back story after all. Pop doesn’t do ‘keeping it real’. It never has. It never will. The lives of artists don’t detract from the quality of their art. We don’t even really know who wrote Shakespeare’s plays, but it doesn’t lessen our enjoyment of them. David Bowie dressed up as all sorts of lunatic and we adored him for it.

All we know for sure is this: the song is good, and she’s much more than just a pretty face.

Lucy Jones, The Telegraph

i raise my flag up into your heart

(via fuckyeahcaitlinmoran)

because sometimes you forget

(via dumblewhore)