Lord almighty, nothing breaks your heart more than an independent shop gone bust.

Tags: lit poetry

It’s Of Mice and Men season again here at school.

Iris Church (character sketch)

Iris Church is a slimly built woman of 75. Her sad blue eyes still contrast brightly with her short, white, curly hair- that’s white not blonde- she was once a brunette with voluminous puffy hair but she hasn’t seen a dark hair in 35 years, pretty much ever since her husband died.
Iris has lived in Stanmore for every one of her 75 years; in fact, she has existed in the same house for the whole time. She puts this down as loving the house she grew up in and not wanting to go through the stress of moving all of her things, and things are what she certainly has got a lot of. If you look around her house you will see: boxes, books, food stains and a vast collection of green frogs. Nobody has ever understood her addiction of the frogs but she has bought them obsessively- she now has well over 10,000 varieties and maybe, in her own way, it is Iris’s own version of the fairy tale myth - that if she buys enough frogs maybe one day she will find her prince again. After all this strange ‘frog- addiction’ only began after the death of her Fred – her real-life Prince Charming - her late husband.
Iris is most proud of the fact that she has remained in the same place for so long; she feels that it’s much braver to stay in the same place and exist rather than keep moving on. She also believes that in some way she has become part of Stanmore and she is well-known and well-liked by the local community. She often thinks back to the happiest day of her life, which was marrying Fred. She often drifts back into that memory as she falls asleep so sadly alone. Was she ever that happy again? She has never admitted the answer to that question.
Strangely for someone who appears so smiley and friendly, Iris regularly dresses as if for a funeral. Again she has done this for the last 35 years almost as if she wants other people to know that she is mourning and will be until the day she herself drifts off into death and the land of the mystery that surrounds us. Nevertheless, she has never given up on her belief in the world and beautiful sunrises always make her feel alive- oh that’s another thing- Iris always wakes up at 5am – even on the weekend.
Most people who have been alone for a long duration tend to accumulate pets the way that Iris has accumulated frogs but Iris has never owned a pet. She used to want one when she was 9 but her father always insisted that a rabbit was more trouble than it was worth and then Fred had been allergic to rabbits… In the end she told herself that they were right – they WERE more trouble than they were worth- and so she has gone on in that house all alone. Perhaps to make up for this, she has the frogs to keep her company and she watches a hell of a lot of TV- with Sky + she manages to watch every single soap opera on the box! Her favourite is Eastenders. Maybe the next time you got to Stanmore Sainsbury’s you will see her near aisle 11 and hear her talking about the latest drama.
This is Iris Church.

Tags: lit prose writers

Annoying online cliches

Why is a cause always worthy?

Why have bands always smashed/slayed/killed it last night?

Why do people not of the MSN generation feel okay using variants on ‘lol?’

Who is bae?

Why is every woman dressed up described as ‘fierce’ and ‘girl?’

Why is everyone that laughs dyyyyiiinnngg?

How can any little observation be felt as ‘so true to so many’?

Sigh.

Everything is the best. Tweet/night/food/video/post/pic. ever. Perpetually.

FFS.

English is a beautiful language - make some effort.

englishwolverine:

theshouldbequeen:

lesshumanmoretimelord:

matty-the-weeboo-fuck:

encoyroaba:

dirtandsky:

I’m a visual learner and now I’m an alcoholic. Thanks, Obama. 

I learn better from experience, one of each please! 

White Russians though

my brother got me wasted from white Russians when I was 7. What a good babysitter.

no wonder i was bombed after drinking two long island ice teas. 

'rum and cola' was it really so hard to look up its real name? its a Cuba Libre. jeez. get good at drinks already.

(Source: rodrigoseaburre, via guiastar)

Really like this first sentence from ‘Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day’ by Winifred Watson.

Really like this first sentence from ‘Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day’ by Winifred Watson.

Tags: lit prose writers

xombiedirge:

Drive by Dylan Burnett

Just discovered Breece D’J Pancake. Now this was a writer.

Tags: lit writers

This year, more than ever, Ukraine needs our thoughts on this it’s 23rd Independence Day. Right now things remain hopeful. Slava UKRAINA.

This year, more than ever, Ukraine needs our thoughts on this it’s 23rd Independence Day. Right now things remain hopeful. Slava UKRAINA.

Westward Bound (by the late Jon Blais)

Live…
More than your neighbours.
Unleash yourself upon the world and go places.
Go now.
Giggle, no, laugh.
No…stay out past dark,
And bark at the moon like the wild dog that you are.
Understand that this is not a dress rehearsal.
This is it…your life.
Face your fears and live your dreams.
Take it in.
Yes, every chance you get…
Come close.
And, by all means, whatever you do…
Get it on film.

I just turned 33

  • I've stayed alive longer than Jesus.

ericboydblog:

neckbreakinstyle:

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Leather top - Zara// Skirt - Zara (similar)// Sandals - (similar)// Clutch - Nasty Gal/ Handpiece - Nasty Gal (Jennifer Zeuner - similar)// Clutch - Nasty Gal

ERIC BOYD x NECKBREAKIN’ STYLE FINAL INSTALLATION

It’s our last hoorah together and although, incredibly exciting, is also very bittersweet. I literally pouted as I typed that. I’ve had the pleasure of merging the written words of the brilliant Eric Boyd and the fashion photoshoots of Neckbreakin’ Style. I can only hope that I depicted the six word poem as beautifully and powerfully as the poem would be on its own. 

Styling wise, I’m in head to toe Zara and Nasty Gal which are two of my favorite great steal boutiques. Crop tops have undeniably engrossed every corner of the fashion industry and has creeped in every style genres. It was also seen at 98.7% of the runway shows during NYFW in September. I am clearly a fan, having worn crop tops in numerous posts so far. You don’t have to go too far to find them. They are literally everywhere. Some of my favorites are this pearl number from TOPSHOPFor Love & Lemoncropped knit, a cropped pullover from BCBGShakuhachi Python Crop Top, and Nasty Gal's Cut Out Crop. I don't see the itty bitty tops going away anytime soon. 

The overall aesthetic of this post is inspired by these six words - 

"Our 
souls like 
messy 
coloring 
books.”
- Eric Boyd (source)

It was important to me to end on a light note. What’s great about Eric Boyd is that he taps almost every psyche of the individual. The soul isn’t organized in clean cut lines, it’s surely messy and you can bet that the colors exist outside the lines. It’s a mixture of patterns, ideas, textures, and movement. The soul is undefinable at best but universally understood. Try to control it and you’ll find yourself in a bigger mess. So this shoot is as laissez faire, full play, vibrant, and full of movement. When you decide to find yourself sharing apart of “you”, it may feel as lucite as the clutch adorning my body.

I hope this post encourages you to have your own dance party in a random room surrounded by painted silhouettes, plush pillows, and beaded curtains.

I have some exciting news to share and stay alert for a giveaway soon!

Photos by Faraz Nishcal Photography

xNB

This was the last six worder which Lynn Do (NeckBreakinStyle) chose to base some photographs off of. A cool collaboration. I hope others will do likewise and hit me up with their ideas. Then my work turns into something new, which will inspire me to do more work, and it just goes round and round like that. It’s great.

I love everything about this - what a great idea.

Tags: poetry fashion

"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;"

— Darkness by Lord Byron