....

princessbindi:

I used to be really embarrassed when my parents would mess up their English but as I got older I realized my parents know Malayalam, Hindi, Tamil, AND English.

They’re way smarter than I am. So I started to chill.

Somebody start talking about how immigrants are dumb because they can’t speak English properly. I’d fucking like to see you try and even remember four different languages, you elitist and racist fuckbaby.

(via thottielamottie)

— 15 hours ago with 21376 notes

theatreboybrad:

supernaturalshakes:

basils-kite:

I went to the MCA in Chicago yesterday with my family and my brothers matched these paintings and then this happened.

Accidental performance art: priceless

i love this

(Source: pine-cypress, via artemisfowlstolemysoul)

— 2 days ago with 218024 notes

Jack, Sally, and Jade talk poison (x)

(Source: evergreenring, via cyberharpie)

— 4 days ago with 3542 notes

boy-alien:

girl hate is toxic, I don’t have time or patience for girls making fun of each other’s bodies etc

(Source: cybergrrrl, via gamegrrl)

— 5 days ago with 67072 notes

pajamaben:

*gets abducted by aliens* thank you. you have no idea how much i hated living on that planet

(via dayswithoutsleep)

— 6 days ago with 101018 notes
Anonymous asked: five ways to fall in love with a city


Answer:

notbecauseofvictories:

Chicago: A Love Letter In Five Parts

preface. the junk stood up into skyscrapers and asked:
Who am I? Am I a city?

1. Chicago grows up out of land flat as an act of God; it looms, gleaming up out of the rusting teeth of Gary’s steel mills, split level suburbs that give way to cornfields. An accident of hubris and will, crouching upon many waters.

2. In the summer, the city smells of skin and sweat and metal, stultifying  heat where the wind can’t reach. The winter is bitter cold, the metal under your tongue. The sky is all other times, grey.

3. Prior to 1900, the fetid, polluted Chicago River flowed out into Lake Michigan, which supplied Chicago’s drinking water. Rather than stop dumping their waste into the river, the city chose to reverse the river entirely through a system of locks, and send their sewage across the Illinois floodplain to Saint Louis.

When Saint Louis threatened to take out an injunction on the project, the Sanitary District of Chicago did not stop work—but ordered the new canal lock be opened the day before the injunction went into effect.

This is the most Chicago story you will hear, except perhaps for how during Prohibition, Al Capone ran a speakeasy at the top of 35 East Wacker. It was one of the mayor’s favorite retreats.

Chicago has always taken a certain pride in being crooked (coarse and strong and cunning)

interlude. The metaphors for Chicago are all unlovely—broken noses and heavy-shouldered laughter, cagework smiles and coalsmoke hair. In metaphor, Chicago is skin-stitched scars and wicked, shifting, junkheap given name. Iron born of fire and hands to the making.

4. Chicago is divided by rivers and then again by less visible battle lines—class and culture and color, scored deeply into its streets and the shifting geography of its neighborhoods. Chicago loves its own crooked, daring myth, but even a city feels shame.

5. There is a stillness you can find only in the heart of the loop at ten-thirty at night, when the passersby lower their voices as though suddenly stepping into a cathedral. The only sound is a dim humming of streetlamp daylight and the quiet whisk of taxis, occasional strains of saxophone drifting up from an underground El station.

The city is not sleeping, so much as you have caught it between heartbeats.

coda.
Come clean with me, come clean or dirty,

I am stone and steel of your sleeping numbers;
I remember all you forget.
I will die as many times
as you make me over again.

(the windy city, sandburg)

— 1 week ago with 340 notes

thylaed:

shout out to people who are scared to call others out, whose hands shake when they try to explain what’s wrong, whose throats threaten to close up with thoughts of ‘what if i’m just overreacting’, whose hearts are pounding out of their chests because they just stuck their necks out for their beliefs, who have lost friends and respect and safety for aligning themselves with causes

(Source: princepatroclus, via artemisfowlstolemysoul)

— 1 week ago with 265445 notes