gino gomez:

so true!

Originally posted on Steeshes - A Photo Collection of Mustaches:

Joba Chamberlian Mustache 2013

For some reason, more than once in my youth, my mom dressed me up as a hobo for Halloween. Probably because it was an easy, affordable costume. I would wear old dirty clothes and my mom would put vaseline and coffee grounds on my face for a beard. It appears that’s what’s happening here with New York Yankee pitcher Joba Chamberlain’s mustache. He really ought to get a paper towel and wipe it clean as to stop embarrassing himself and real men with real mustaches.

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The old life of Tolstoy

Internal conflicts we all face

When I watched this documentary, I felt both inspired and angered by the free spirit of Leo Tolstoy and the way that he died. Upon further research tolstoy’s political and theological philosophies are being categorized as Christian anarchy. Considered an oxymoron by some scholars, to some it makes perfect sense. However, what would be the course of action against those individuals who are against pacifism and opt to use violence and weapons to attain their ends?  Exile? Ethical death by euthanasia? Stoned to death? These are queries that deserve a respectable, realist answer in order to achieve the utopian world that most dream about. Tell me something new.

Visions of her

Debate largely focused on giving up hope,

detecting the foreclosure of your life, all the while
you softly drink your Guinness
With the good old boys who
who hang around you like vultures on dead camels.
 Like the pope with no job eating peyote.
Confused, hallucinating, gonzo.
You stick with them because without them
You’d be alone, drinking at home.
And its your minimum wage that pays for this gay olde time.
 From happy hour to happy endings I see your pockets
disappear holding hands with your will to live.
Alas! Is last call, and those vultures are all gone
so when you come home with alcohol in your breath I know that tomorrow
our adorable hungry blue-eyed bastard won’t have food to be fed.

This is how I got here

Finding my voice in writing has become more punishing than deciding on a future profession after I finish college. the only thing that compares to this en devour is being a parent. I am sometimes dumbfounded at how intellectuals portray writing as such a labor intensive torture which must be done according to academia following certain patterns and rules and regulations and whatever else the text book says. Tell that to Jack Kerouac and he will throw a copy of Dharma Bums at your inept head. When i was a freshman in High School i knew what i wanted to be, i wanted to be a writer and follow in the steps of those who inspired me as i was growing up. People like Hemingway, Orwell, Hunter S. Thompson and all of the Beatniks. Even the gay ones.- they wrote the best poems-. However, I took a long detour following the example of Hemingway and joined the Army right after i finished school. I remember how amazed I was every time i saw the news reel that showed all the action and the explosions, dirt, hardships, fire, death, injuries, penance, morale and above all Pride.