Teddy Roosevelt’s diary entry from the day his wife died. He never spoke of her death again.

Teddy Roosevelt’s diary entry from the day his wife died. He never spoke of her death again.

(Source: threeoverten, via villenoire)

HHAhahaAHA

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  • friend: what are you gonna be for halloween?
  • me: drunk

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(Source: hisownwayofliving, via villenoire)

(Source: sonottrue, via j-ydon)

(Source: lonesomecrayon, via j-ydon)

(Source: yespleaseme, via t0rmented)

A beautiful young woman strides down the sidewalk alone, head down, hands drawn into fists. She’s walking fast, darting around huge men with black cameras thrusting at her mouth and chest. “Kristen, how do you feel?” “Smile Kris!” “Hey, hey, did you get her?” “I got her. I got her!” The young woman doesn’t cry. Fuck no. She doesn’t look up. She’s learned. She keeps her head down, her shades on, fists in her pockets. Don’t speak. Don’t look. Don’t cry.

Jodie Foster, a former childhood actress herself, sticks up for Kristen Stewart in a piece up on the site today. “If I were a young actor today I would quit before I started,” she writes. “If I had to grow up in this media culture, I don’t think I could survive it emotionally.” Media, we suck sometimes. Let’s cut this girl a break, eh? (via newsweek)

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This whole thing makes me wonder: Why is it that we Hester Prynne the hell out of women like Kristen Stewart and not men, like, say, Charlie Sheen? Why is promiscuity good for Sheen’s career and bad for Stewart’s? (Don’t tell me Charlie Sheen is a better actor. 1. Kristen Stewart is an underrated actress, and 2. I’ve seen deceased raccoons bring more energy to a performance than Sheen did on Two and a Half Men.)

And most importantly, when will we realize that our obsession with imagining celebrities (or anyone else) without empathy hurts both the observer and the observed?

(via fishingboatproceeds)

(via fishingboatproceeds)

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(via glennoconnell)

Bee's Bag Full Of Cats: Last night I had a dream. I found myself in a desert called Cyberland....

beesbagfullofcats:

Last night I had a dream. I found myself in a desert called Cyberland. It was hot. My canteen had sprung a leak and I was thirsty. Out of the abyss walked a Cow; Elsie. I asked if she had anything to drink. She said “I’m forbidden to produce Milk. In Cyberland we only drink Diet Coke”. She said…

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