fuckyeahthesupremes:

The Supremes, 1965

Bus Roots is a living garden planted on the roofs of city buses (NY). It’s an effort that rose out of New York City designer Marco Antonio Castro Cosio’s graduate thesis at the NYU

Lana Del Rey for Madame Figaro
Photograph by James White

last night in one of my dreams i was thinking about that post on women in mental institutions in the 50s being electrocuted and i full-on burst into tears 

Fei Fei Sun at Miu Miu Fall 2011

coltre:

Street art in Rome

❝ A woman from the audience asks: ‘Why were there so few women among the Beat writers?’ and [Gregory] Corso, suddenly utterly serious, leans forward and says: “There were women, they were there, I knew them, their families put them in institutions, they were given electric shock. In the ’50s if you were male you could be a rebel, but if you were female your families had you locked up.
—  

Stephen Scobie, on the Naropa Institute’s 1994 tribute to Allen Ginsberg (via fuckyeahbeatniks)

#LOOK AT THE FUCKING BELL JAR

(via talkwordytome)

other relatable feelings

eudaemaniacal:

(kate bush hounds of love chorus voice) eurh eurh eurh eurh eurh eurh eurh

❝ 

White people get so angry at the phrase, “You cannot be racist towards white people.”

I will never understand why.

Why are you so angry that you are being treated as actual human beings? You are not reduced to caricatures, but portrayed as characters. You are treated fairly, judged not by your skin tone, but by the ways that you carry yourselves, by your actions.

Why do you want to experience racism so badly? It is not fun to be mocked, dehumanized, attacked, killed, incarcerated simply for daring to exist. It is not fun to know nothing of your history or family because it was torn apart, whether through distance or death. It is not fun to hear, at every turn, comments reminding you of your lesser status as humans.

Do you really want to turn on the tv, open a magazine, watch a movie, play a video game, and not see yourself? Or, even better, to only see yourself as a criminal, as a drunk, a mocking stereotype, or as someone to be killed off? Or would you rather see fleshed out, well-written characters with lives and personalities and feelings? I know which I’d rather pick.

If I were a white person, the phrase, “You cannot be racist towards white people,” would be the best thing I could ever hear.

—  i finally put some thoughts into words // thedeathcats (via taint3ed)

july 2014, in phone snaps

❝ There’s no point to a guy yelling, “Hey sexy baby” at me out of the passenger window of a car as it speeds past. Even if I was into creepy misogynists and wanted to give him my number, I couldn’t. The car didn’t even slow down. But that’s okay, because he wasn’t actually hitting on me. The point wasn’t to proposition me or chat me up. The only point was to remind me, and all women, that our bodies are his to stare at, assess, comment on, even touch. “Hey sexy baby” is the first part of a sentence that finishes, “this is your daily message from the patriarchy, reminding you that your body is public property”.

Lana Del Rey for Rolling Stones Magazine

aseaofquotes:

— Virginia Woolf

❝ Anonymous asked: How did you discover you liked girls

turklet:

i looked at a girl and i was like nice

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