!!PUPPY IN NEED OF HOME IN LOS ANGELES!!
hi all, my friend’s neighbor found a stray dog in need of a home! according to the vet, he is about one and a half years old. he’s got his first round of shots and will be neutered soon. he’s in great health, is very smart, and even knows some tricks! his foster mom is keeping him upstairs but her husband wants him gone ASAP (he was even talking about bringing him to a kill shelter!) he’s currently living in atwater village, and needs a loving home asap. if you’re interested, please contact emma at firstname.lastname@example.org
please reblog/signal boost to help this pup find a forever home!!
LA followers, signal boost!!!
I live in a gentrified part of Brooklyn, I eat out several times a week, I travel the world sampling the best that cities across the globe have to offer. Do I live in a penthouse loft? Am I dinning in five stars restaurants? Can you only find me in the most exclusive areas? Do I own a jet? The answer to all the above is most certainly no. I’m just a regular man from Prince George’s county, Maryland that figured shit out.
I discovered that I can make a career in an arena dominated by artists that sell false dreams. I realized that although the masses may not know of my body of work, it doesn’t take the whole world to have the world I want. Tangible Dream is a mix-tape dedicated to the deconstruction of our traditional ideas of success & shedding light on the possibility of a sustainable rap life.
These rhymes were written in economy class seats, these beats were produced on long bus trips & these songs were recorded in airbnb apartments. All I want to do is make music for a living so that I can live to make music. The only dreams I’m interested in are the ones I can grasp. It just so happens that anything you want bad enough can be obtained. Perhaps the world may never know of my accomplishments but accomplishments they are nonetheless.
lately, i’ve been reading and reading and reading: problems of the introvert, my father’s shy pride, the words that fall and rise in line of my first Murakami novel — which took me a whole month to process — and my first romantic dream.
i’ve never had a romantic dream before. but after he brushed my toes with his, all i got were gentle kisses on my hand. i can’t believe i’m still stuck on those kisses.
and i still fall in love every time i think about us on the couch.
i see you around in real life and think, thanks for reminding me to step back and take notice in culture. and antiquity. and power. and the sadness that grinds nature to the ground built beneath tall towers and dusty factories in the downtown of cities. and to buy more art. and spain. oh, spain. my idea of a soul’s holiday could be with you, taking me to your favourite tattoo parlour outside our city and having your full name inked on the inside of my throat so you can be the unspoken word escorting everything else i say. inked under all my skin, so if i ever share scratches on my back with anyone else, they can uncover your place in me.
tell me i’m a reoccuring theme in your dreams, too.
tell me you would rather find me beneath your sheets.
The Roots - Upper Egypt
a funk-ton of soul
my dad always told me to leave the room when he was counting money from his Royal Sovereign. at first, i really did think it was because he thought i was too small to grasp financial thinking, that i needed to have a mind cultivated enough to avoid being stuck on one serious thing, like money, or marriage, or people who walk staring at their shoes.
but while i heard the papers rapidly flipping through each other, his surgical mask was on and the windows were always wide open.
"why?", i asked.
"because money is dirty. always keep that in mind - money is very dirty. and you should never be so close to the soiled.", he replied, in words that probably tasted a lot like metal and acid rain and muddy fingers with only numbers in their brain.