emmaylor

emmaylor:

I love this part, from fiction writer Mallory Hellman:

4:07 pm - I’m late to pick everyone up, and I’m the one leading our lesson today. When I pull up to Dey House, all four of my fellow Youth Writing Project volunteers are assembled on a snowbank waiting for me. One holds a bag full of construction paper. Another shivers under a hat with long ear flaps. Troopers. They get in, and I gently disrespect the speed limit until we’ve reached Cedar Rapids.

4:45 pm – Our gang of ten is happy to see us, even though we didn’t come bearing snacks. We cluster three tables together in the classroom and hang up our laminated Writing Club sign.

5:15 pm - Teonie, who is eight, has written an ode to tacos and nachos. Most of it is a meditation on her two favorite foods’ similarities, concluding with a tenderly inflected, “Are you sisters?” This leads, naturally, to a heated debate about which foods are sisters, which are brothers, which might be cousins, and which aren’t related at all.

5:45 pm – Lasagna and calzones are parents to spaghetti. Pizza is a cousin, on the calzone side of course. Macaroni wants to be in the family but isn’t – it rolls with the hot dish instead. Peaches and plums go hand in hand, but mangoes and green peppers have never met. Avocados and pears hate it when they’re mistaken for sisters.

vintageanchorbooks

'Summer Nights' (1925)

The sounds
Of the Harlem night
Drop one by one into stillness.
The last player-piano is closed.
The last victrola ceases with the
“Jazz Boy Blues.”
The last crying baby sleeps
And the night becomes
Still as a whispering heartbeat.
I toss
Without rest in the darkness,
Weary as the tired night,
My soul
Empty as the silence,
Empty with a vague,
Aching emptiness,
Desiring,
Needing someone,
Something.
I toss without rest
In the darkness
Until the new dawn,
Wan and pale,
Descends like a white mist
Into the court-yard.

by Langston Hughes (via vintageanchorbooks)
letmedothis

Anonymous asked:

How do you give good head??

letmedothis answered:

Alright since I get this question so often, I asked a good friend of mine to write a guide for y’all


So you wanna learn how to blow a dude, huh? Rest easy honey. It isn’t nearly as hard as you might think.

I gave my first blow job many years ago and I too was terrified at what it might entail. What does sperm taste like? What do men do when they cum? What will I do when they cum? Should I spit or swallow? What do I do with this thing? (answers: fine, a variety of things, move faster, swallow, touch it) I didn’t know the answer to any of these questions at the time and I was too embarrassed to ask my high school boyfriend so I did what any self respecting teenager does- I googled it. Unfortunately googling “how to give a bomb blow job” turns up a ton of results. Some are helpful and some aren’t. Some are bullshit. Cosmo will tell you to bobble your head around in a figure eight motion like a dumbass. They’ll also tell you to tie your hair up with a thong. Don’t listen to Cosmo (that’s just generally good life advice).

So here we go gals (or dudes no judgement): Angela’s Guide to Home-run Head; Abridged.

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Still proud

americasnexttophoarder

americasnexttophoarder:

“I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room
where everyone finally gets what they want.
You said Tell me about your books, your visions made
of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is
the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you
there. The splash of my tongue…

problematiclynz

The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling, and they’re only a few steps behind you, finding the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren’t stitched up quite right, the place they could almost slip right into through if the skin wasn’t trying to keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side of the theater where the curtain keeps rising.

I crawled out the window and ran into the woods. I had to make up all the words myself. The way they taste, the way they sound in the air. I passed through the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbled around for a while, and stumbled back out. I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is.

Snow and Dirty Rain, Richard Siken (via demiboyclint)