e
twenty-nine.
just trying to figure it all out

I want a soul mate who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh. I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on.
- Henry Rollins  (via thatkindofwoman)
lagunabay:

lagunabay /// twitter / music
paris2london:

(via Anouska Proetta Brandon |)

you know you could use some extra sleep when you put toothpaste on your clarisonic.

so either poorly trained russian insurgents utilizing high level military tech from russia, mistakenly blew up a passenger plane

or

perhaps equally likely.

the dutch. the world’s florists. loaded corpses…onto a plane in amsterdam and ditched it directly over the rebel controlled area of eastern ukraine to make them look bad…for no fucking reason whatsoever. 

the country that gave us the windmill, the pot brownie, and a bed sheet oven powered by farts, now gives us the unprovoked flying zombie plane.

that is so like the dutch. 

hey CIMA…you know it’s Lolla, right?

hey CIMA…you know it’s Lolla, right?

it’s funny how memories come flooding back when you step into familiar places.

i met a friend for PB&Js (pizza, beer and jamo shots) at the boiler room this evening. that table in the back we always used to sit at, the one i had to pass on my way to the ATM? trigger. heading home, i decided to be responsible and take the fullerton bus to the brown line instead of paying for a cab. vas foremost. revolution. 2 amigos. gaslight coffee roasters…triggers. slippery slope. chicago distilling company. the radler. new additions and pointed reminders that everything is in flux. constantly changing; evolving. doors shutter; new things open up in their place.

i rounded the corner at fullerton and milwaukee—the one with lady liberty standing tall over that sketchy bank—and it hit me like a ton of bricks. all of the little details you never could have imagined would have been the ones that weighed heavy on your heart years later. we existed there. we were born there. we grew up there. and i suppose if i’m honest, we died there. a fact we ignored for eighteen more months.

but as i stood there on the corner waiting for the bus, two blocks from our first home, i was transported back to the beginning. those crisp november days, still so full of excitement and anticipation. everything was new. everything was possible. i can’t help but wonder if these places will ever hold new excitement and new possibilities…or if they will always serve as reminders of a past that has faded away and a future that will never be…

When sex isn’t magical, then sex shouldn’t happen. And when it is magical, its power shouldn’t be underestimated. The energy exchange between two people making love is far more significant than rationalists think. That is why we can become so deeply vulnerable to someone once sex has taken place. The question is whether someone has the personality structure to contain the power of last night’s behavior, the morning after and the morning after that. This where women often start getting overactive and men start wimping out. All of this is why, without some kind of commitment to the larger relationship, making love can be so emotionally risky.
- Marianne Williamson 
i don’t know if i would ever get a tattoo, let alone one this big…but i really love how delicate this is.

i don’t know if i would ever get a tattoo, let alone one this big…but i really love how delicate this is.

I’m tired… I’m so tired. I thought I just needed a night’s sleep, but it’s more than that.
- Inside Llewyn Davis. Dir. Joel Coen (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)