Friend that’s a boy.
Steven. 21. Dallas-TX. Uni-Junior. Gay. Dr. Pepper. Rum raisin ice-cream. Optimistically realistic. Humility.
I'm on Instagram @Stevenhle
ΠΚΦ, ΙΞ #24
Science. Medicine. Art. Music. Funny. Scary. Horror. Witty. Morality. Existentialism. Culinary arts. Ethics. Atheism. Passion. Empathy. World. Humanity. Steven.
You are worthy of love and respect. You are beautiful, gifted, and intelligent. Don’t let the storm make you forget that.
is where I go when I run out of
Missing You. Because the door
is three feet high, you have to crawl
into the Factory. Let me tell you
about leaving: it’s either the drain
or the window. The carpet
at The Sadness Factory is all shag.
The drapes? Also shag. The walls
are supposed to change color with your mood,
but they have been broken since the 80s,
which I hear were a rough time for empathic
architecture. The Factory is, no joke,
shaped like a heart; sadness is the corniest
of emotions. The most popular time to visit
is at night because, again,
corniness, so they have hired the world’s
most incompetent security guard. He is always
weeping and saying something unintelligible
about my wife, my wife. Sadness
is much easier when you are reminded,
by phone, by accident, of what makes you
happy, so the Factory always smells
like maple syrup and snowmelt. There’s no
golden ticket. Iron, though. Cement. The lines
for samples are prohibitively long: New Apartment
Sadness; Everything Is Great but Something
Feels Strange Sadness; A Midsummer
Night’s Sadness; The Sadness of Wanting
To Break Something but Being Too Weak;
The Sadness that Comes from always Knowing
Exactly where You Are.
The Beauty of Scientific Diagrams is a typography set by Khyati Trehan that “integrates the initial of scientists with the diagrams they were responsible for”.
Oh Chemistree, oh chemistree,
How lovely are your beakers.
For me, the most ironic token of that moment in history is the plaque signed by President Richard M. Nixon that Apollo 11 took to the Moon. It reads: ‘We came in peace for all mankind.’ As the United States was dropping 7.5 megatons of conventional explosives on small nations in Southeast Asia, we congratulated ourselves on our humanity: We would harm no one on a lifeless rock.
On the left we have the lyrics from Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines. On the right we rape survivors participating in Project Unbreakable, showing the various things that were said to them by their rapist.
The Twitter Mandela Hall Of Shame