madeofcelluloid:

'The Double', Richard Ayoade (2013)

(via ifeltyourshape)

“ I detest the masculine point of view. I am bored by his heroism, virtue, and honour. I think the best these men can do is not talk about themselves anymore. ”

amoebamusic:

New “What’s In My Bag?” episode with Edgar Wright! The director and writer picks up some of his favorite recent films, including Frances Ha & Spring Breakers, and an anthology of horror movies.

I’m not like you guys. I don’t have claws or glowing eyes or super senses. I just have voices in my head.

(Source: garfinski, via piccadillytown)

AUDIO

And it’s no fun when I’m freaking out
And it’s no fun when I’m always down
And it’s no fun what I’m putting inside of me is making me crazier

(Source: noshameinoursickness, via rufustfirefly)

If one is not enjoying one’s present, there isn’t a great deal to suggest that the future should be any better.

(Source: cyberqueer, via gigglebangs)

AUDIO

sadmusicforsadbastards:

"Feel it go wrong, goodbye, so long
Shine a light, I want to explain
Open me up to this pain
My shadow was drown in a sea underground
No strength to fight back the waves
A crashing tide’s warm embrace 

My hand to my chest, drift off from the rest
Echoes out inside of these walls
Remembering our phone calls
Your shadow in time, by chance or design
Fall into the fear you avoid
A place you thought you’d destroyed”
 

(Source: katiebishop, via robotlauren)

mrgolightly:

St. Vincent - Cheerleader

I am struck occasionally, usually while snuggling the cat, with our faith in domestication.

The cat is a small, ferocious predator, twelve pounds of…well, flab and fur, frankly, in Athena’s case, but what muscle there is is strong all out of proportion to her size. I have watched three 150+ primates try and fail to subdue a ten pound cat, and consider it not at all unusual. The cat is as flexible as a snake and as strong as an ox. She has quite dainty looking teeth and claws, but there’s nothing dainty about their ability to flay flesh from bone.

If the cat and I were in a duel to the death, I would almost certainly win. I am 15+ times larger than she is, after all, and while my teeth and claws are pathetic, I have prehensile hands capable of doing terrible things. But if I had to go in naked, as the cat does, (and assuming the cat was aware that she was going to have to kill me, and not taking a nap in the corner) I can pretty much guarantee it would be a Pyhrric victory. I’d look like I’d gone ten rounds with a wolverine. I would need stitches. A lot of stitches. Possibly a glass eye. And antibiotics by the truckload. It’d be a mess, and there would even be a chance of an upset if the cat managed to go face-hugger on me.

And yet, despite the knowledge of the shocking amount of damage my small predator could inflict, it never occurs to me to worry. I pick the cat up and she tucks her head under my chin and purrs, canine teeth centimeters from my jugular, and despite the fact that I am carrying a ruthless carnivore in a position where she could, with great ease, remove me from the gene pool, I am thoroughly content with the world. Even knowing full well that cats are not even a truly domesticated animal, that Athena’s kin might best be described as “consistently tamed,” my greatest concern is that my black tank top is now coated in white cat hairs.

We have such faith in the process of domestication, despite the sheer unnaturalness of what’s happening. Small predators do not curl up on the chests of large primates and purr in the wild. And yet, every now and again, generally when my small predator is purring on the chest of this particular primate, I think How strange, how strange… that we’re doing this, and even stranger, that we both take it completely for granted, and find nothing unusual in such a completely unlikely alliance.