Jeep baptismal.
t h e l o c a l f a r e
This is a tumblelog, kinda like a blog but with short-form, mixed-media posts with stuff I like. Scroll down a bit to start reading, or a bit more to read more about me.
Reblogged from Live simply
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It’s a most distressing affliction to have a sentimental heart and a skeptical mind.
— Naguib Mahfouz (via thatkindofwoman)
Reblogged from A well traveled woman
When it comes to matters of love, it’s often platonic devotion that proves the most intimate and carries the most weight in one’s life. It’s the love stories of friendship, the decades-spanning, unbreakable connection to someone that stays around as lovers come and go. Yes, romantic love is an all-encompassing illness of the heart, but without a best friend to guide you, life becomes less tolerable. Cinema has long been awash in tales of romantic love, of course, but it’s rare to see a tale of love between two female best friends, especially one that genuinely shows what it is like to have that kind of soul mate, without whom everything else would be askew. But with Noah Baumbach’s latest film, Frances Ha, we see one woman’s journey of self-discovery, ignited by a fractured friendship.
Reblogged from A well traveled woman
Reblogged from WANDERLUSTFUL
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It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection.
— The Bhagavad Gita (via thatkindofwoman)
Reblogged from That Kind Of Woman
Reblogged from ___________
Reblogged from Messes of Men;
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Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording —all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.
— Sylvia Plath (via oh-girl-among-the-roses)
Reblogged from well aren't you just a ray of fucking sunshine?
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How did a man born of Eastern descent, a man who called himself the Prince of Peace, a man whom the sacred writings describe as eating with prostitutes and providing wine at weddings and healing the sick and ignoring any political plot, a man who wants us to turn the other cheek and give all our possessions if we are sued, become associated with—no, become the poster boy for—a Western moral and financial agenda communicated through the rhetoric of war and ignorant of the damage it is causing to a world living in poverty?
My only answer is that Satan is crafty indeed.
— Donald Miller (via hislivingpoetry)
Reblogged from Hi, I'm Ramses
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I once listened to an Indian on television say that God was in the wind and the water, and I wondered how beautiful that was because it meant you could swim in Him or have Him brush your face in a breeze. I am early in my story, but I believe I will stretch out into eternity, and in heaven I will reflect upon these early days, these days when it seemed God was down a dirt road, walking toward me. Years ago He was a swinging speck in the distance; now He is close enough I can hear His singing. Soon I will see the lines on His face.
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Donald Miller (via dillondean)
donald is my favorite
(via rhiannarhianna)
makes me want to go and read blue like jazz again
(via hislivingpoetry)Reblogged from Hi, I'm Ramses
Well, good morning, Conner! @ncoledean @mk11412
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