Frankie Lopes, 19, NJ, Writer

Likes : Fountain pens, Watches, Leather Journals, Books; lots of them, Writing, The Beatles, Kanye West, Talking to strangers at convenience stores, being impulsive, getting tattoos, being frankie lopes.

Dislikes : E-readers, people, the radio, the news, college, or any school for that matter, math, money, being asked questions starting with "Who, What, Where, When, Why, How, Can, Will, Have or Do."

Cough Syrup

(Source: wellknowwhenwego, via petesegro)

30 notes

16 minutes ago

Anonymous asked: why single?

because i don’t have a girlfriend. why else is someone single?

8 hours ago

All the Wine

The National / Alligator

lightboxes:

I’m put together beautifully, big wet bottle in my fists, big wet rose in my teeth
I’m a perfect piece of ass like every Californian
So tall I take over the street with high-beams shining on my back
A wingspan unbelievable, I’m a festival, I’m a parade

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

69 plays

14 notes

19 hours ago

Anonymous asked: whats it like to be a genius

i’m not a genius, but thanks.

20 hours ago

I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening I’m not here this isn’t happening

4 notes

20 hours ago

“That is, it occurs to me now in force that in college things were never, not ever, at no single point, simply all right. Things were never just OK. I was never just getting by. Never. I can remember I was always horribly afraid. Or, if not horribly afraid, horribly angry. I was always desperately tense. Or, if not tense, then in an odd hot euphoria that made me walk with the water-jointed jaunt of the person who truly does not give a shit one way or the other. I was always either so unreasonably and pointlessly happy that no one place could seem to contain me, or so melancholy, so sick and silly with sadness that there was no place I could stomach the thought of entering. I hated it here. And I have never been as happy as when I was here. And these two things together confront me with the beak and claws of the True.”

—

David Foster Wallace.

Brookdale.

(Source: timsarverblog)

4 notes

21 hours ago

never got old

22 hours ago

(Source: mochacafe, via among-the-sleep)

1287 notes

23 hours ago

wasanyoneever:

“I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that’s why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon.” -Jack Kerouac, On The Road

9 notes

1 day ago