#to remember

[bulliness]

LMAOOOO

[stars-and-birds]

btw it’s not weird to be nice. it’s not uncool to be thoughtful. you’re not being sappy or cheesy for doing a kind thing

[careyakane]

4:08 pm Memphis TN / 1:21 Am Texarkana TX

Mahogany tables beneath bourbon walls and a black ceiling as Carl, the saint he is, pours sweet tea and recommends the dry ribs. He holds himself as a gentle man, moving slowly with a little extra weight on his left as he steps towards the kitchen to fetch more of the drink. Damn the sweet tea—tables full of that honey nectar, the water of the South—brought swiftly over worn hardwood floors that have known the feet of many joyous, dancing folk. Folk with soft voices that end each phrase in kind words and affirmations, folk that meet and hold a gaze loyally, just like a deer is loyal to the headlights of its end.

For a moment, I dread the harsh hiss of my peers in the West; anxious fools we all seem in comparison to these tender souls of Memphis. The land of B.B. King, the land of the blues. “See you boys next time,” Carl seems to sing as we step back to the road and begin again. Soon the sun has expanded until she floods everything in sight with a color just like that of the sweet tea. Train yards, groves of locust, drowned fields of soybeans, a sandy full moon low to the horizon, and suitcase towns all burn up in her hand as we fly west.

With time, the snow slips back into the landscape, and just past 10 p.m., we arrive at a deserted navy hospital perched above Hot Springs Arkansas. A thousand windows lay dark, like the eyes of some terrible creature of the sea. The building feels alive, restless to sit drained of the life and death that once filled its halls. Towns like this make me rejoice for my destination, and I swear I saw envy in the eyes of those bound to stay as we stopped for coffee and waffles—“just passing through” written all over us.

Now, an hour past the reset of the day, we stop to sleep in a Texas hotel “under renovation,” or so a greasy fox of a man says, as I am sure he has said each night for years now. I’m not sure how one could fix anything with the sad sum we cough up, and so I turn my head away from the missing drywall and stained mattress and write of the day’s unfoldings. Austin tomorrow.

[marciequerade]

platonic subkit for a badge in phighting midnight

[the-kingshound]

Arthur finally getting hound to fall asleep next to him after months of waiting patiently. Hound always being on guard around them and not being able to relax finally lost the fight against exhaustion and the way Arthur kept petting their back and humming quietly

Omg I have so many thoughts and I'm writing this down for future use

[itspileofgoodthings]

x

[mindofserenity]

After searching for bodies of the martyrs in one of the areas of Syria, the fighters came across the body of a 16 year old boy who had been killed. They found in his pocket a small notebook, in which he used to write his sins during the week; if only we could call them sins:

Monday: I slept without wudhu.

Tuesday: I laughed in a loud voice.

Wednesday: I prayed nightprayer fast.

Thursday: When we were playing and I scored a goal, I felt pride.

Friday: I didn’t recite 1000 salutations on the Prophet salallahu aleyhi wa sallam, and only reached 700.

Saturday: I forgot morning dhikr.

Imagine this is what he thought were sins. We are carrying on everyday with our sinful lives and do not give a second thought to these actions.

— source unknown (copied)

May Allah ‎ﷻ guide us to be amongst the righteous, to humbly live in remembrance of our purpose of pleasing him.

[roncheg]

creatures most perfect 😚🐇♥️

[theoceanislikeyou]

"It is in your self-interest to find a way to be very tender."

Jenny Holzer

[the-moons-toasty-ace]

New t-shirt idea. Front says "I have a problem with delinquents." The back says "they follow me everywhere I go."

[bulliness]

Increasingly more frustrated with white peoples inability to understand what counts as violence. Colonial actions aren't violence, slavery was the economy, relocation was willing, disease is outside of human control. The pinnacle of violence is one person hurting one person for no reason. The second there's a reason, it's a system, and systems are innate and not violence. Even sexual violence isn't violence unless it's done outside the influence of any apparent systems. Sex tourism isn't violence, it's economy, abuses in porn don't count, it's economy.

Unless it's them. Then everything is a personal slight. Everything becomes violence, the naked body they accidentally see, the noise on a bus, the crinkle of a nose at their makeup. White people are the only victims of violence.

[mizukixyamadaxmimi]

The amount of study materials that I have physically (a.k.a. Books) is insane. I am just now realizing it.

Yes I know it's stupid of me to have this much, but i like a variety of materials (even if they might be the same or not) ((the stuff in the last pic: One has just notebooks, the middle has various things, and the last set there are more elementary type learning?)) (( pic before that is word searches or crosswords))((with the magazines, the last plus a little of the middle are Junon magazines from years ago))

I also have a few learning varieties such as documents, photos and audio clips on my pc.

[careyakane]

8:46 Am - Ashland Ohio

Driving west with the sunrise giving the illusion of being everlasting. Soon it will take its ground over us and the world will fall flat again, stripped of its early morning shadows. Robin egg blue above, behind, every damn direction for that matter. Haybale fields crystalline in the fresh coat that fell overnight. Naked forests save the evergreens. Kii and owl asleep about me in the way one rests carried by the motion of travel. This day is good, all is right for a time. —- on another note we met a women working a cafe in Ohio at 7:30 this morning and she with a laugh asked if the three of us were in a boyband which prompted us to give her our names which she then sent to her daughter who apparently is a big fan of my music. It’s wonderful and shocking of course to think where my songs have laid roots. What a joy to find connection through all the invisible inner workings of thread that connect this wonderful country far from the big city’s and policy makers. Now to Nashville.

[maxiglow]

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