Quietly, Undramatically

Militant men in peaceful times attack themselves.

Reblogged from themelancholyhill

(Source: scott-stanley)

Reblogged from blind-io

Maxime Taccardi

Reblogged from helvetios

heartheblackbirdscry:

Devin Townsend on his way to Canada from Sweden on a jet ski

Reblogged from rhan-tegoth

(Source: darareiis)

Reblogged from immortalpict

(Source: unidos-pela-felicidade)

Reblogged from themelancholyhill

opticallyaroused:

This dude has a sick skill!!

_______

This rock balancing is done by Michael Grab. He is an artist and has killer patience. On his site gravityglue.com, Grab explains:

“The most fundamental element of balancing in a physical sense is finding some kind of ‘tripod’ for the rock to stand on. Every rock is covered in a variety of tiny to large indentations that can act as a tripod for the rock to stand upright, or in most orientations you can think of with other rocks. By paying close attention to the feeling of the rocks, you will start to feel even the smallest clicks as the notches of the rocks in contact are moving over one another. Parallel to the physical element of finding tripods, the most fundamental non-physical element is harder to explain through words. In a nutshell, I am referring to meditation, or finding a zero point or silence within yourself. Some balances can apply significant pressure on your mind and your patience. The challenge is overcoming any doubt that may arise.” Pretty sick, amiright?

Reblogged from satans-ice-cream-truck

bedsigh:

Blood moon // 4.15.14 

umq:

The Blood Moon :: (Timothy Green)

Reblogged from satans-ice-cream-truck

umq:

The Blood Moon :: (Timothy Green)

The Coffin Ships
Primordial

Reblogged from rhan-tegoth

remolg:

Primordial - The Coffin Ships

Young hearts are born with grief
Will pay the penalty of truth
A season of stolen youth
Shall teach old hearts to break

It feels like I’ve been here before
Here where the animals lay down to die
So we stand alone on a distant store
Our broken spirits in rags and tatters

With nerve and muscle and hearts and brains
They are lost to Ireland, they are lost in vain
So you pause and you can almost hear
The sounds they echo down through the ages
The creak of the burial cart
Here in humiliation and sorrow
Not mixed with indignation
So one is driven to exclaim
Oh god, that bread should be so dear
And human flesh so cheap

Young hearts are born with such grief
And we have paid the penalty of truth
A season of our stolen youth
Shall teach our hearts to break

wintersc88:

Going to see this on Sunday.

Reblogged from norwegianspirit

wintersc88:

Going to see this on Sunday.

(Source: vicshloovian)