so I was thinking that mark ruffalo sounds a lot like mark buffalo, and then i decided that i obviously wasn’t going to be the only one who thought about this. so i typed ‘ruffalo the buffalo’ into google images and i found these…
i don’t know why but it made me happy
I don’t know why but it makes me happy too.
THIS VINE IS ICONIC
And I spent my evenings pullin’ stars out of the sky
And I’d arrange them on the lawn where I would lie
And in the wind I’d taste the dreams of distant lives
And I would dress myself up in them through the night
…what have I done?
This should be posted in school hallways.
I like the fact that you can see the shockwave go through the clouds.
Edvard Munch - “From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them, and that is eternity.”
I took this picture a few years ago, when I was still living in DC.
It’s the second floor of Capitol Hill Books, located in one of the most magical parts of all of Washington - Eastern Market.
(not my photo)
It very quickly became one of my favorite places - a small, old townhouse, filled to the brim with hundreds upon hundreds of secondhand books.
There are stacks of books on the stairs, stacks on the floor, and the Languages section is in the bathroom. The front window is a huge, old picture window, and you can’t even see inside the store because the books are double stacked from sill to ceiling.
It’s all organized by genre, and there is a slight effort to maintain alphabetical order, though you’ll still have to dig. Everything is double- and even triple-stacked. It’s chaotic.
My favorite spot was the fiction section, at the top of the steps on the second floor, right under this old chandelier. I’ve found some of my favorite books here, and never spent more than $5 on a single one.
The best part? The owner is an old man with the driest, most inappropriate sense of humor in the world.
Here are the rules of the store, taped to the front counter:
(not my photo)
The last time I was in there, he had a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows propped on the cashier’s counter with an index card sticking out that read only “Ron dies.”
When you first walk in, an article about the infamously reclusive JD Salinger’s death, with a hastily scrawled note taped above it, reading something along the lines of, “First book signing with JD Salinger in 60 years:
This store was my haven, my heaven, my home.
If you can’t find it there, you can’t find it.
Cœur de Pirate | Ain’t No Sunshine
ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
it’s not warm when she’s away
mike wazowski opens up a tattoo shop called Monsters Ink