drunken wasp.

drunken wasp.

Rawr.

Rawr.

darkenyourroom:

The shrine to Shrines is done. Some minor Photoshop work to do + colour variants but this is pretty much finished.

well aren’t you a talented one @velvet_underdog

darkenyourroom:

The shrine to Shrines is done. Some minor Photoshop work to do + colour variants but this is pretty much finished.

well aren’t you a talented one @velvet_underdog

// The 16 customers that bar staff should be legally allowed to stab in the kidneys//

usvsth3m:

1. The customer who orders a big round of drinks. One. At. A. Time.

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They think you’re too stupid to get it right if they just tell you them all at once. Inevitably, they’ll want a Guinness, and, inevitably, it will be the last thing they remember to mention.

2. The person who dumps their money down onto the wet bar

image

Your outstretched hand is right there, but actual, physical contact with a service worker is below them. Instead, they make you fish it out from a sticky pool of spilled beer.

3. The one with the ridiculous order - like coffee

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It’s 11pm on a Saturday night, the place is absolutely rammed with sweaty people craving booze - making a cappuccino is going to take ages. Why are they even at a bar? Why do they even exist?

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Sometimes I wonder if I love working in a pub so much just because I can moan with other bar staff about this stuff. Either way: I have served every single one of these people.

// liking things on tumblr//

just to see the little heart do the floaty thing

peter doig exhibition @ scottish national, edinburgh - worth a visit

peter doig exhibition @ scottish national, edinburgh - worth a visit

I am never going to learn to count past 10 in Hindi. NEVER.

<3

(Source: a-book-thieving-girl, via effyeahnerdfighters)

pushkar lake: I miss you.

(I wish I&#8217;d taken more/better photos there)

pushkar lake: I miss you.

(I wish I’d taken more/better photos there)

The cries abate, like all cries. (That is to say they stop.) The murmurs cease, they give up. The voice begins again (it begins trying again). Quick now before there is none left, no voice left, nothing left but the core of murmurs, distant cries: quick now and try again, with the words that remain. Try what? (I don’t know, I’ve forgotten, it doesn’t matter, I never knew.) To have them carry me into my story, the words that remain? (My old story, which I’ve forgotten, far from here.) Through the noise, through the door. Perhaps I’m at the door! (That would surprise me.) Perhaps it’s I! Perhaps somewhere or other it was I! I can depart! All this time I’ve journeyed without knowing it: it’s I now at the door. (What door? What’s a door doing here?)

Beckett, L’Innommable

A few days ago I saw Barry McGovern do the best performance of the last page of L’Innommable I think I’ll ever see.

I can't go on. I'll go on.