Esquire Theme by Matthew Buchanan
Social icons by Tim van Damme

12

Jun

italianformygirlfriend:

613: Pinguino

italianformygirlfriend:

613: Pinguino

11

Jun

huffposttv:

The new “Legend of Korra” trailer is has arrived, showing off some of its incredible wildlife.

c86:

Taken from Rudyard Kipling’s Mowgli, 1969 (Rostov Publishing House)
Artwork by Petr Petrovich Sadkov

06

Jun

nemfrog:

Unread book.

nemfrog:

Unread book.

22

May

wnyc:

SOON
-Sean, Sideshow


This is one of my favorite parts of Tucson, seeing the push and pull between the people continually painting over the ‘zilla’ and the people repeatedly spray painting it.

wnyc:

SOON

-Sean, Sideshow

This is one of my favorite parts of Tucson, seeing the push and pull between the people continually painting over the ‘zilla’ and the people repeatedly spray painting it.

11

May

comicallyvintage:

Enough said…

comicallyvintage:

Enough said…

(Source: lifesahoot)

03

May

If you can’t get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you’d best teach it to dance.
George Bernard Shaw (via criminalwisdom)

12

Apr

bbcamerica:

The season premiere of The Graham Norton Show starts at 11/10c on BBC America!

(Source: flushwithcash)

11

Mar

girlsdressingcuteforwork:

As soon as I read this question I thought of this article I read a while ago on huffpost.com. It’s called Warpaint by CoCo Layne. The last row of pictures shows you someways you can camouflage your shaved sides at work. I even think while a part down the middle is professional it still has an edge.

13

Feb

you must first lose your
shit in an elevator
in front of a man you do not know.
Recommended Reading: Brett Elizabeth Jenkins’s poem “To Get to Zen" at Paper Darts. (via millionsmillions)

18

Jan

The Fart Party's Over by Julia Wertz Narratively - Narratively: Human stories, boldly told.

11

Jan

(Source: grungebirth)

10

Dec

breakingupthedisco:

For all of you lit theory nerds out there

breakingupthedisco:

For all of you lit theory nerds out there

08

Nov

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

20

Oct

(Source: imaphotoeditor)