This is still a minecraft blog

(via midiport)

pridewishes:

dorothea-rising:

In the first poetry workshop I ever took my professor said we could write about anything we wanted except for two things: our grandparents and our dogs. She said she had never read a good poem about a dog. I could only remember ever reading one poem about a dog before that point—a poem by Pablo Neruda, from which I only remembered the lines “We walked together on the shores of the sea/ In the lonely winter of Isla Negra.” Four years later I wrote a poem about how when I was a little girl I secretly baptized my dog in the bathtub because I was afraid she wouldn’t get into heaven. “Is this a good poem?” I wondered. The second poetry workshop, our professor made us put a bird in each one of our poems. I thought this was unbelievably stupid. This professor also hated when we wrote about hearts, she said no poet had ever written a good poem in which they mentioned a heart. I started collecting poems about hearts, first to spite her, but then because it became a habit I couldn’t break. The workshop after that, our professor would tell us the same story over and over about how his son had died during a blizzard. He would cry in front of us. He never told us we couldn’t write about anything, but I wrote a lot of poems about snow. At the end of the year he called me into his office and said, “looking at you, one wouldn’t think you’d be a very good writer” and I could feel all the pity inside of me curdling like milk. The fourth poetry workshop I ever took my professor made it clear that poets should not try to engage with popular culture. I noticed that the only poets he assigned were men. I wrote a poem about that scene in Grease 2 where a boy takes his girlfriend to a fallout shelter and tries to get her to have sex with him by tricking her into believing that nuclear war had begun. It was the first poem I ever published. The fifth poetry workshop I ever took our professor railed against the word blood. She thought that no poem should ever have the word “blood” in it, they were bloody enough already. She returned a draft of my poem with the word blood crossed out so hard the paper had torn. When I started teaching poetry workshops I promised myself I would never give my students any rules about what could or couldn’t be in their poems. They all wrote about basketball. I used to tally these poems when I’d go through the stack I had collected at the end of each class. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 poems about basketball. This was Indiana. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I told the class, “for the next assignment no one can write about basketball, please for the love of god choose another topic. Challenge yourselves.” Next time I collected their poems there was one student who had turned in another poem about basketball. I don’t know if he had been absent on the day I told them to choose another topic or if he had just done it to spite me. It’s the only student poem I can still really remember. At the time I wrote down the last lines of that poem in a notebook. “He threw the basketball and it came towards me like the sun”

(via log6)

xeansicemane:

cymothoid:

cymothoid:

cymothoid:

who wants to see a house that made me take ticks of poison damage

1204 S 18th St, Saint Louis, MO 63104 | Zillow

1204 S 18th St, Saint Louis MO, is a Single Family home that contains 2500 sq ft and was built in 1885.It contains 3 bedrooms and 3 bathroom

Zillow

i want you to look through this house. i want you to really look. please try and make sense of the space in here. especially that weird thin room with the balcony. try and really wrap your head around this.

it’s like a point and click adventure game. you have no sense of scale or distance because all the fucking photos are in portrait. there are too many mirrors and angles that straight up make no sense. it’s confusing on purpose. its so fucked.

i think this might be my least favorite space in the whole thing. it feels bad. it gives me a little headache. i hate it.

This house is an aesthetic nightmare and I want to live in it.

(via trappedinavelociraptor)

Its uhhh… Its been a while since I listened to and of M0r1s songs and ohh boy her mgsolid song is um ohh… Its not good can we bring back her old music again so people realise she’s trash again? That was a good time

pelaajanifta:

GAMING RULE 1: NEVER PREORDER

GAMING RULE 2:

(via mimiteyy)

aurelion-solar:

HEARTSTEEL - PARANOIA Single Cover Art

glacierclear:

mixing my two obsessive interests and exploding my brain stem

(via punkitt-is-here)

bgm05:

my favorite dril thing is when he’ll just RT something from an account that hasn’t posted in six years and it’s clear he just came up with a stupid @ and checked to see if anyone had it

(via ghoulchurch)

theskydoesgreatthingsnow:

tamagotchikgs:

i m;iss when u could touch a tv and feel its fur

When an old tv died it was always very understandable. Screen busted. Tubes broke. Animal sick. Smart TVs will have psychosomatic problems that clear within a day. Ur Apple TV gets mental illness.

(via punkitt-is-here)

oh-snapperss:

oh-snapperss:

saphushia:

saphushia:

oh-snapperss:

obsessed with both of them actually. what the fuck is wrong with ethoslab specifically LMAOOOO

pissing all by yourself, handsome?

so how we feeling abt this in the wake of bathroom penis

i fucking hate you with every inch of my being right now

dont you fucking dare do this to me

(via takenbyshreep)