MY BOOKS ARE STOCKED AT OLD SCHOOL DELIGHTS. PLEASE SUPPORT :)
We enter a little coffeehouse with a friend of mine and give our order. While we’re aproaching our table two people come in and they go to the counter:
‘Five coffees, please. Two of them for us and three suspended’ They pay for their order, take the two and leave.
I ask my friend: “What are those ‘suspended’ coffees?”
My friend: “Wait for it and you will see.”
Some more people enter. Two girls ask for one coffee each, pay and go. The next order was for seven coffees and it was made by three lawyers - three for them and four ‘suspended’. While I still wonder what’s the deal with those ‘suspended’ coffees I enjoy the sunny weather and the beautiful view towards the square infront of the café. Suddenly a man dressed in shabby clothes who looks like a beggar comes in throught the door and kindly asks
‘Do you have a suspended coffee ?’
It’s simple - people pay in advance for a coffee meant for someone who can not afford a warm bevarage. The tradition with the suspended coffees started in Naples, but it has spread all over the world and in some places you can order not only a suspended coffee, but also a sandwitch or a whole meal.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have such cafés or even grocery stores in every town where the less fortunate will find hope and support ? If you own a business why don’t you offer it to your clients… I am sure many of them will like it.
Source : [x]
Aging - A gruesome process.
Do you know what I was smiling at? You wrote down that you were a writer by profession. It sounded to me like the loveliest euphemism I had ever heard. When was writing ever your profession? It’s never been anything but your religion. Never. I’m a little overexcited now. Since it is your religion, do you know what you will be asked when you die? But let me tell you first what you won’t be asked. You won’t be asked if you were working on a wonderful, moving piece of writing when you died. You won’t be asked if it was long or short, sad or funny, published or unpublished. You won’t be asked if you were in good or bad form while you were working on it. You won’t even be asked if it was the one piece of writing you would have been working on if you had known your time would be up when it was finished—I think only poor Soren K. will get asked that. I’m so sure you’ll only get asked two questions. Were most of your stars out? Were you busy writing your heart out? If only you knew how easy it would be for you to say yes to both questions.
life has been good.
happy april fools everyone.
it is sad to be a boy sometimes
sometimes i read something nice a boy writes to a girl and wish that more girls would know that they are THAT crush, that they ARE that rush up somebody’s spine, that push behind those secret words unfurling onto a page as fragile as his heart
obviously the world will not be a better place but at least more people would feel less lonely and misunderstood. but then again maybe that is the point of keeping diaries.
i’m crying just looking at the gifs
when you miss somebody - i mean, the ache-y, bruised up feeling sort of miss, the kind where you feel like you’ve just run a million marathons and can never recover, like that exhausted, ragged out point you reach after taking a million beatings from strangers who hate you with the kind of vengeance you will never understand, i would say:
just let yourself hurt. don’t try to be strong when you cannot and force yourself to stitch everything up so tightly even when everything is overflowing at the seams. when all the cold, chilling tremors of longing freeze every vein and capillary flowing through your entire being and even when you attempt to numb and tell yourself it doesn’t matter, you’re made of much stronger stuff than this for real
how strong can we get? we aren’t bulletproof, we’re sure as fuck not invincible and damn right we are allowed to feel pain in all the places we never thought would sting. let yourself hurt. let yourself pine and whoever the hell thinks they have the authority to say you are a motherfucking weakling - tell them to just throw themselves off a cliff and see if they can reassemble all their bones back together again ; then tell them that’s how difficult it is to get rid of the thought of missing someone with all you have in you.
BOOK LAUNCH ALERT, PIMPS!
PLEASE COME BY, SHOW YOUR SUPPORT WITH ALL YOUR HOMIES AND HOS
IT WOULD BE BEST IF YOU CAME BY NOT STONED OR HALF NAKED OR REEKING OF LAME ASS EXCUSES SUCH AS “OH! I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT THIS YOU DIDN’T INVITE ME”
BUT I GUESS ONE CANNOT COMPLAIN TOO MUCH.
PLEASE BE A GOOD SPORT AND DROP BY TO SHOW YOUR LOVE.
PEACE OUT, A TOWN.