the signs and their airs (associations)

astrosoeur:

Aries: smoky jazz clubs of the 20′s, bruised peaches, baroque paintings, the suspense of a preying lion, heavy breathing, midnight rendez-vous, poppy fields, the curiosity of a child, venus de milo & thunder. 

Taurus: forehead kisses, the
cool shadows under a tree on a warm day, film noir, lounging in silk,
blowing off dandelion seeds, ladybugs, the smell of sandalwood and
vanilla,
serenity, fulfilled longings & peppermint tea.

Gemini: lillies, folie à deux, midday fatigue, silver-tongued monologues, blueberry-stained hands, the feeling of bottomless falling, tinsel thoughts, train whistles, fallen cities & change. 

Cancer: blushing,
worn book spines with golden embossing, budding roses, vertigo, the
smell of freshly brewed coffee, jupiter, the hazy moments before fully
waking up, freckles on golden cheeks, picnic baskets & nostalgia.

Leo: dimmed lighting, the sound of a woman in heels approaching, short-lived chimeras, masquerades, withered flowers, passion-inflicted bruises, immortality, dust-covered art, cars speeding by & the Odysessean gods. 

Virgo: foggy mornings, french braids, the ticking of clocks, smudged ink, melancholy, trembling hands of new lovers, butterflies, dry humor, the smell of the forest post-rain, ancient statues, words unspoken & gooseberries.

Libra: dewed branches at dawn, honeyed words, listening to the soft beating of a lovers heart, seeing things through rose-colored glasses, balancing on one foot, swans, late nights at the opera, elderflower & small sighs. 

Scorpio: the sense of impending doom, secretive whispers, red velvet drapes (à  la Twin Peaks), an heart brimming over, slow boudoir dancing, peeking over edges, figs, a cello playing in the distance & wry smiles. 

Sagittarius: honey, candlelight silhouettes, nighthawks by edward hopper, wine-stained lips, the void, vast wheat fields, comfortable shared silences, entangled lovers, broken hourglasses & whirlwinds. 

Capricorn: goosebumps, languor, ravens, the aloof smile of someone reminiscing, board games, sleeping in, pine trees swaying in the wind, stargazing, sea foam, castle halls, tangles & wordless understanding.

Aquarius: candelabras, nightly walks, the crashing of waves, hydrangeas, pondering over a cigarette, contrasts, an air of ‘je ne sais quoi’, subtle glances, the climaxes of classical symphonies & avalanches.

Pisces: pressed flowers, cloudy days, faded memories, cryptic symbolism in dreams, waltzes, van gogh paintings, dried tears, sand slipping through your fingers, the desire to dissolve into your surroundings, seashells & lingering touches. 

old-school-butch:

sometimestuesday:

ironleaves:

sometimestuesday:

Sylvia Plath was right

About what?

“Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording —all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.”

I know women who were teenagers during WW2 who talked about the immense freedom they had as teen girls. They could sleep on the beach at night. They’d walk home alone after a party. From the way they talk about it, you’d think there wasn’t a war going on or that some of those nights were interrupted by air raid sirens.

How was this possible? Easy – just conscript every able-bodied man between the ages of 15 and 60 and put them in military compounds that they aren’t allowed to leave. Remember this the next time a woman muses about having curfews for men so women can walk alone and night, and everyone scoffs at how that wouldn’t solve anything, somehow.

i-cannot-live-without-coffee:

mr-ore:

i just bawled my eyes out and it feels like i just got the biggest hug to my soul. thank you thank you thank you. it is sacred and it is SAFE the poster will not tell anyone even what state this is in, only thats this is in USA. even if you are not indigenous i hope this lifts your spirits and comforts you.

#for those who dont know for the Lakota ppl#a white buffalo is a sacred symbol of hope and restoration i believe#i am not Lakota but i am so happy for you all !!

Welcome to the world, white buffalo. Come through.

the36thbloggerofshaolin:

This fight always reminds me that Jackie Chan is truly a modern day Chaplin/Keaton. When recognizing physical comedians, Jackie has to be considered a modern king.
This concept is so simple. STICKY FLOOR. That’s about it. And yet he makes absolute magic out of it. He gives us a solid fight sequence, genuine humor and some cheeky, sexy stuff. Everything you want, really.
This fight might not be the most ferocious action sequence he’s done but, as far as comedic ideas go, this one is up there I think. It’s great.

The fight is from The Myth which I’m not going to post a link to because it’s not very good. It has three great action sequences in it (including this one). Track it down at your own peril.