Beaudelaire.
crowcrow:The Yellow Scale (1907) by Franz Kupka
(via tickiotock)
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
—Fake Empire
No one can reduce me to tears like The National and not have a single regret.
thelifeofbobsaget asked: so i've been contemplating our forming a meta-ironic indie rock band wherein i play the triangle and we'll only play in caves to a single-digit audience of hibernating bears and we'll be called neutral jenkem hotel
Deal. But only if we grow beards of a lifetime in order to clothe ourselves. And we won’t use lyrics. I’ll play the Marxophone.
It’ll be the most political thing about the band.
Hello, Tumblrites. At this very moment, spurred by odd incentives, I am going to choose two words I like and google image them together. How about?
DADA and Gas Mask.
Wow, I am satisfied with this in a sick way.
You and I. Saturday night. Turban shake.
How about it?
(Source: fuckyeahihatepeople, via wormsandbones)
(Source: yes-we-cannabis, via bhayes34)
This and Death Note. Best animes ever.
(via ixthil)
