Send me messages? I’m a bit bored and a bit contemplative and it’d be nice to talk to y’all and get out of my head a bit.
Gall bladder’s last day. [theawkwardyeti]
(Source: larstheyeti, via fancycake)
Each resident will be given a private sleeper car, equipped with a desk, a bed and a window to watch the American countryside roll by for inspiration. Routes will be determined based on availability. —
So Amtrak actually did it; they created a writer residency program. Fans of writing inside a moving vehicle for thousands of miles, this program is for you. (via shortformblog)
Ok so, this is SUPER COOL!
…This would be more attractive if the food on Amtrak wasn’t so awful. …I wonder if we could sweet-talk DB or the SBB into doing something like this…?
ETA: Oh wait. Amtrak then wants all rights to what you write on this poorly-catered jaunt? I DON’T THINK SO.
Goddamnit Amtrak wants the rights to your application materials. NOT what you write while on the train. I don’t see how writing something new (all of 500 words max) for an application for a free cross country trip is unreasonable considering what it normally costs.
Screw it, y’all don’t apply, I will. More room for me.
yeah…. it’s just what you use to apply. read all the words, people.
Or use something you’ve published in the past that you don’t care about being able to republish. There are ways around this folks.
nothingbecomingsomething:weightlesslives:This might be the most accurate thing I’ve read everPosting on Tumblr is like talking to your cat. You don’t know if they are listening, and you don’t know if they care, but for some reason, it still helps.
And sometimes they attack you completely unprovoked.
You don’t owe prettiness to anyone. Not to your boyfriend/spouse/partner, not to your co-workers, especially not to random men on the street. You don’t owe it to your mother, you don’t owe it to your children, you don’t owe it to civilization in general. Prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked ‘female’. — Diana Vreeland (via dead-goats)
walk into the club like whatup did u guys read the book yet ((it’s a bookclub))
(Source: crankkky, via evilmarguerite)