My name is Lanny. Native Portlander. Currently on break from GWU. DJ for KPSU.

"   For a woman in the 1940s and ’50s, this was not an easy role. While her male peers, including her husband, celebrated the freedoms of sex, drugs, literature and the open road, Ms. Cassady was by turns an eager participant and a dissenting adult, the one who kept the utilities on, raised the children and watched with dismay as the next generation of young men emulated the self-destructive impulses of the last.   "
Carolyn Cassady, Beat Generation Writer, Dies at 90 - NYTimes.com
"  

If they don’t reply to your texts — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t call you — they’re not interested in you.

If they forget your birthday — they’re not interested in you.

If they’re hung up on their ex — they’re not interested in you.

If they’re obsessed with being single — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t want to meet your friends — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t want you to meet their friends — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t ask questions about your life — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t tell you things about their life — they’re not interested in you.

If they only speak to you when they want to have sex with you — they’re not interested in you.

If they only have sex with you when they’re drunk — they’re not interested in you.

If they say “should we just keep this between us?’ after you have sex with them — they’re not interested in you.

If they don’t have sex with you — they’re not interested in you.

If they can always find a psychobabble rationale about who “I am” or “you are” or “we are” as reason why you can’t be together — they’re not interested in you.

If they have said for more than six months that they would like to be with you “BUT” — they’re not interested in you.

And if you still need convincing — think of it this way. Think of what the real day-to-day of life is taken up by. Life is birthday parties at terrible pubs. Life is losing your credit card and the annual Melbourne Cup sweepstake in the office. Life is hen’s nights, bucks’ nights, sitting on the phone for three hours to get U2 tickets and not getting them, the apartment upstairs flooding your house, interval training, calorie counting, cancer scares, illegal mini cabs, Secret Santa, rail replacement buses and Dido albums. Dogs die, cars crash, bin liners break, contracts end, curtain rails collapse, trains get delayed, football teams lose. Divorce happens and so do earthquakes and so does An Audience With Michael Bublé. Landlords put rent up, phones get stolen and the supermarket often completely runs out of hummus.

Now, taking all of the above into account — you look me dead in the eye and tell me the truth. Do you really have enough spare energy to pursue someone who isn’t interested in you? Do you really want to waste any more time on top of all of that? No. Me neither. So give it up, my friend. It’s a loser’s game. Delete their number. Don’t go on any more dates with them. Stop lurking their Facebook page. Feels good, doesn’t it?

  "
Dolly Alderton - gaslightgoodbye (via perfect)
"   lately i’ve been getting worse. i’ve drawn the blinds shut and have cursed at the sun that keeps spilling through the cracks and i should be writing metaphors about how that sunlight is a perfect metaphor for happiness but i’m depressed.
i’m depressed and i haven’t slept in 76 hours because every time i close my eyes i can feel the noose tightening around my neck feel the rope burning my throat and i have to open my eyes to make sure i still have a pulse.
i’m getting worse and sure i have friends and family to talk to but the problem is i don’t think i want to get better i’ve lived with this loneliness for so long its starting to look like a friend its another blanket that keeps me rooted to my bed for days on end and living without it is new and unfamiliar and terrifying. and I just don’t think I can fight it.
so i guess I’ll pull the blind further, hold the blankets tighter turn the music up louder and try to remember how to breathe.   "
inhale, exhale man (t.m.)

punkarth:

I can’t trust alex caplow bc when I tweeted him a picture of a skeleton giving him the finger he went through my twitter photos and cropped out my eyes in a really stupid picture I took of myself and tweeted it back to me

"   To live is to be willing to die over and over again.   "
Pema Chodron (via thecalminside)