pilo cruza fronteras

yayeveryday:

Foam Monster In Emotional Reunion With Severed Limb

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy - the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard, really.

3.9.10

the glow washed over all of us.

3.8.10

that fucker hamilton sitting on his high chair looking all smug and shit.

3.7.10

shhh… there might be something in the room.

song of the day

We Were Born the Mutants Again With Leafling (via BobaFettTDG)

i finally get it.

Funny Or Die Presents: Playground Politics - Africa (HBO) (via HBO)

for the first time, in what feels like years, the temperature in the washington dc area will reach a high of 60 degrees. this makes me very fucking happy.

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3.6.10

information superhighway

3.5.10

Fleet Foxes - Mykonos (via subpoprecords)

3.4.10

2.3.10

they all become numbers

3.2.10

fact: one of my biggest regrests is selling off my entire lego collection for $800 in 2004, which i drank away all over europe. i had 50+ sets comprised of thousands upon thousands of pieces. thankfully, i have very few regrets in life.