Hi, I’m a writer. My hobbies include not writing.
(via madisonraynalowe)
(Source: romancenotdead, via touristintheghetto)
That's about all you need to know about me. However, my name is Taylor Wood.
Love is a Fog [Charles Bukowski]
charles bukowski presents: some real shit
“I’m going to India to find myself”
—White proverb (via morenamagia)
(via mannyv)
(Source: legion88, via backtobased)
Unused Taxi Driver poster made months ago for SpokeArt’s Scorsese tribute show. The decaying mental state of a New York cabbie seen through his operator’s license.
(via mannyv)
(Source: coolstoryfuckface, via thebaileymozer)
“Instead of saying “I don’t have time” try saying “it’s not a priority,” and see how that feels. Often, that’s a perfectly adequate explanation. I have time to iron my sheets, I just don’t want to. But other things are harder. Try it: “I’m not going to edit your résumé, sweetie, because it’s not a priority.” “I don’t go to the doctor because my health is not a priority.” If these phrases don’t sit well, that’s the point. Changing our language reminds us that time is a choice. If we don’t like how we’re spending an hour, we can choose differently.”
—Unknown (via the-healing-nest)
(via officialsnowbunny)
“The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left.”
—Charles Bukowski. (via theburnthatkeepseverything)
(via concealedsins)
(via madisonraynalowe)
(Source: theirfinesthour, via concealedsins)
(Source: vodkapirate, via ch0lera)
Mr. Grey Area
I don’t care about anything.
Not politics.
Not religion.
Not bombings or shootings.
Not a healthy diet.
Not athleticism.
Not school.
Not work.
Not life.
Nothing.
Every so often,
a woman will come around
and force some feelings out of me,
but when she’s inevitably gone,
I care even less than before.
My friends know it.
My family knows it.
“What do you think
Taylor wants to do?
Oh, he probably doesn’t care.”
I don’t care what movie we see.
I don’t care where we eat.
I don’t care about what’s making you hurt.
I don’t care about what’s making you smile.
I barely care about you.
I suppose it’s not that I don’t care,
it’s that I’d rather you do something
to please yourself
rather than me.
I don’t deserve to choose.
Your pleasure makes me feel a little better.
I don’t know.
I don’t know what any of this means.
I don’t care.
But sometimes I wish I did.
