The gears in my heart, the rust in my brains.
romantisme1812:

Jean Benner, Salome (1899).

romantisme1812:

Jean Benner, Salome (1899).

(via metaphoricalcock)

farewell-kingdom:

Tjep

The gears in my heart had wings?

(via imgTumble)

(via metaphoricalcock)

Things I learned about Aaron.

Things I have learned about Aaron in the last weeks, while we have struggled with things big and scary.

He loves me, almost unconditionally. It’s an incredible gift. 

He feels responsible for my happiness, and will do almost anything to make sure I am. So, I have to make sure that he isn’t hurting himself to give me what he thinks I need. 

He notices me. He observes me. He *pays attention*. I am not a made up person, or a prop that fills the ‘girlfriend’ space in his life. I am not the potential to be something that he will want later- I am loved for what I am right now.

He will not take me for granted. That is dangerous territory.

When put in a position where he has to choose to walk or to fight- he will fight. 

This is our family, the things we have chosen and made for ourselves. And family is everything. 

electrikthunder:

Anatomic Collages from the “Ciencias Naturales” serie by Juan Gatti. VISIT HIS WEBSITE.

my insides, my garden.

(via metaphoricalcock)

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.

Aaron Freeman “You Want A Physicist To Speak at your Funeral”

(source: npr)

I thought about this sort of thing constantly when my father died. We used a Carl Sagan quote about us all being made out of star stuff and played Talking Heads at the “funeral”. And then we all went to the observatory at USC and looked through the big telescopes at the miracles that are stars and planets. 

(Source: lonelyheartsdeathmetal, via zackalak)

doctorwho:

Would you be my companion?

(Source: lastone2sherlockisasissy, via nlovin)

11/11/11

Skyrim. 

I will be busy for a week, at least.

Don’t bother to call, but feel free to send care packages.

decibelleplace:

Liyen Chong
Hair Embroidery 

decibelleplace:

Liyen Chong

Hair Embroidery 

I am going to make one for everyone I know. 

I am going to make one for everyone I know. 

(via saffronandceladon)

Waltzing Mathilda.

Waltzing Mathilda.

(Source: just-young-wild-and-free)

Make a little birdhouse in your soul?

Make a little birdhouse in your soul?

(Source: crumbsinthesand)

Kiss me. Right here.

Kiss me. Right here.

(Source: gimmethebatwendy)

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