Was that your first kiss since 1945?
That bad, huh?
your daily reminder that Black Widow gave Captain America a semi in the middle of a shopping centre
#I LOVE THE IDEA THIS MOVIE HAS#THAT TWO HOT PEOPLE CAN HAVE A BASE LINE OF PHYSICAL ATTRACTION TO EACH OTHER#BUT CAN CHOOSE NOT TO YOU KNOW#BE BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND#AND CAN INSTEAD FIX IT AT A NEGOTIATED PLACE OF THEIR CHOOSING#WHICH FOR STEVE AND NATASHA#IS WORK BROS WHO SOMETIMES KISS ON AN ESCALATOR FOR REASONS#AND THEN NATASHA GIVES STEVE SHIT#AND HE REMINDS HER HE KNOWS HOW TO JACK CARS (quigonejinn)
i was presenting something in english the other day and this kid started snickering and laughing at me so i just stopped in the middle of talking and stared at him with the best evil look ever and
In 2006 Ms. Lockwood, an English teacher at Xavier High School, asked her students to write a letter to a famous author. She wanted them discuss the author’s work and ask for advice. Kurt Vonnegut (1922 – 2007) was the only one to write back and his advice is worth reading.
Dear Xavier High School, and Ms. Lockwood, and Messrs Perin, McFeely, Batten, Maurer and Congiusta:
I thank you for your friendly letters. You sure know how to cheer up a really old geezer (84) in his sunset years. I don’t make public appearances any more because I now resemble nothing so much as an iguana.
What I had to say to you, moreover, would not take long, to wit: Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow.
Seriously! I mean starting right now, do art and do it for the rest of your lives. Draw a funny or nice picture of Ms. Lockwood, and give it to her. Dance home after school, and sing in the shower and on and on. Make a face in your mashed potatoes. Pretend you’re Count Dracula.
Here’s an assignment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lockwood will flunk you if you don’t do it: Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don’t tell anybody what you’re doing. Don’t show it or recite it to anybody, not even your girlfriend or parents or whatever, or Ms. Lockwood. OK?
Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated trash recepticals. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow.
God bless you all!
when a bunch of your favorite artists release new music at the same time
You mean next month? (x)