The plan was to meet them there.There’d been some fumbling and messing about with how to get there in somewhat written form, floating around.
I dreaded the agreement to a meet up even the moment it came out of my mind’s mouth.
I wasted some time at home, knowing the time of the meet up was here.
“I’ll wait a while, then go - give them some time to get there”, i thought.
I clean up and head out the door.
I go to where i had figured out the meet point was.
I make the due call, stating my whereabouts and wait for the confirmation i knew was to come, that i am not, in fact, in the right place.
During our telephone engagement, and afterwards, going back to our written correspondence, i realize, she was rather horrific at giving good directions.
Or perhaps i was just nervous.
Terrific.
It’s not here and now i’m twisting through these dead-end roads, semi-lost and losing momentum.
“Alright, let’s find this place, then sit in the car for about a quarter of an hour, until i figure out what i’m going to do”.
I finally reach the point, which in actual fact i had passed by earlier and noticed to be deserted and what appeared to be unwelcoming to passing traffic, thought it was there, and left.
So, at least when i say her directions were misleading, even unforeseeing, the gate i was supposed to enter (were i indeed finally in the correct place) remained nonetheless  solemnly closed shut.
A cop car meanders past, its blue light idly revolving on its top.
My apartment too beckons an imaginary light in the sky asking me back to its cave-like lethargic depths.
I speed off home.
As i park the car, i open the bottle of beer i had with me for Dutch courage, should i have needed it; as the radio immortalizing Mrs. Whinehouse one more lovely time, it reminding me, one more damn time, that once again it’s just me and Mr. Jones

.

Who needs friends when you’ve got deamons?

Deamons who perch on your shoulder blurting out vacuous words at the spaceous void that exist between where he stands and everyone else.

those are finches for sure

(via captaininsaneway)

(via captaininsaneway)

http://dukelixon.co.uk/

Dopest graphic  designer ever

(also Tumblr’s new link interface looks CRAP - hello? you listening?)

If you spend alot of time with just yourself at a point or more in time, especially before you become a full-grown adult, don’t be alarmed.

Fear not. Be not sad.

It’s good practice.
See it as getting used to what it will be like when you are old and alone and grey.

We put the We in aWEsome.

Love you.

τουλαχιστον τα πρωτα 3 ποστς του μ’εχουν εντυπωσιασει.

slackerblud.com

ο ερως τρωει σωθιξ

γαμιουνται οι κωλογεροι μουνοπανα με οπισθοδρομικη σοβενιστικη και μισογυνικη αντιληψη

Fuck Your Moral

Αν εχω μαθει ενα πραμα στη ζωη μου ειναι την (θεωρητικη) θεωρια τησ σχετικοτητας (πρακτικα δεν καταλαβαινω γρι του e=mc squared).

Ολα ειναι σχετικα! Ακομα και το οτι ολα ειναι σχετικα, ειναι σχετικο!

Παιζουν απειρες μεταβλητες που μπορουν να αλλαξουν/επιρρεασουν την οριστικη πορεια οτιδηποτε.
Και ολοι ειμαστε διαφορετικοι - ΔΙΑ-ΦΟ-ΡΕ-ΤΙ-ΚΟΙ, γαμωτο, παρτε το χαμπαρι.

Ο καθενας με αλλες αποψεις, αντοχες, πιστευω και κομπλεξ.
Αλλα τελικα αυτοι με τα μεγαλυτερα κομπλεξ ειναι που υποβαλλονται - ανασφαλη, φαντασμενα οντα.

Οποτε την επομενη φορα που πας να υποβαλλεισ τον μαλακισμο σου (που κριμα για ολους συνηθωσ δεν ξερεισ καν οτι το κανεισ κ οτι εχεισ αδικο να υποβαλλεσαι), τον ανυποφορο μαλακισμο σου σα να’ταν καθολικη, αναμφισβητιτη, αδιαψευστη, απολυτως απολυτη, καθετη αληθεια, σκεψου λιγο:

Δεν υπαρχει ακομα κλωνος με προκαθορισμενο μυαλο κ αρχεσ κ ιδεες

Και δεν υπαρχει σωστο ή λαθοσ οταν προκειται για την προσωπικοτητα ενος ατομου
ΚΑΙ ΤΙΣ ΠΡΟΣΩΠΙΚΕΣ ΤΟΥ ΕΠΙΛΟΓΕΣ

Οπωσ ειπε ο Jack Johnson: what’s important to you is not important to me!

(but common logic is not so common anymore)

from the legendary Left-Handed Toons (by right-handed people)

lefthandedtoons:

Pteranodon Goes Swimming | Left-Handed Toons

Comic URL: http://www.lefthandedtoons.com/1438/