1925 vs 2016. 90 years later and we’re still policing women on what they wear to the beach.
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1925 vs 2016. 90 years later and we’re still policing women on what they wear to the beach.

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Spring King feels like a lo-fi California rock band with a splash of pop, shaken, and definitely not stirred. This infectious concoction is then poured into a shot glass of punk. Finally, it sets …
THE FEELING WHEN YOU OFFICIALLY WRITE MUSIC REVIEWS FOR A BLOG WHICH MEANS YOU ARE NO LONGER WRITING SOMETHING FOR ONLY YOUR EYES WHICH IS COOL BECAUSE THAT’S KIND OF A STEP UP EVEN IF NOONE REALLY READS IT.
"Frank Ocean’s Empty Live Stream"
It’s 1am, on a Thursday night. Well, Friday morning. August 5th. My computer is blank except the words popping up on the screen as my mind races.
There is an eerie sound coming from my speakers. Something similar to the hollow reverberations of the inside of a seashell. Or an empty concert hall. Every few minutes, the sound of a floor board creak comes shrilling through my speakers. My heart drops. I immediately stop typing and switch the screen over to Boysdontcry.co, which has been minimized for the last few hours. I wait for some sign of life to appear on the vague Apple Live Stream that has been showcased on his site for days. Nothing. just an empty work studio, cloaked in black and white, empty except for the worlds expectations.
I can hear things in the background. But what exactly? I can’t be sure for certain. I can’t help but wonder 'What am I doing with my life’ as I sit, listening to an empty room in the wee hours of the morning. Just waiting impatiently for an artists that has basically shrouded himself in secrecy for the past 5 years.
There must be hundreds of thousands of others doing exactly the same thing as me right now. Like them, I believe Frank Ocean’s elusiveness and straight up trolling is forgivable. We are all tuned in, as if holding hands around a camp fire, collectively singing….nay….praying in unison that this is not another 2014 let down. or 2015 let down. As the hours unfold past midnight, I begin to worry.
'Nostalgia, Ultra' hit me like a Mack truck when I first heard the 12 track EP. It was 2011 and I was a junior in college who was experimenting with all sorts of things. Artists like JJ, The Weeknd ( Pre Thursday mixtape) and Frank made r&b accessible and dark. It hyper sexualized everything and shrouded these melodies in dim neon and dipped them in a promethazine shine. All things in which I never experienced or really appreciated until that very moment that someone played me Frank. The messiness of it all made it something I could relate to. The monologue in the background of ‘Love Crimes’ was something me and my roommates would memorize and recite. “What is a Radiohead?” in Bitches Talkin. And then we can’t skip over the sweet sweet ear candy that is Strawberry Swing and it’s jacked Coldplay sample. And yet, Frank’s harmonious crooning added something rawer than Coldplay could ever muster ( Currently, at least). Like everyone else, my all time favorites were Swim Good, Novocain and Electric Feel.
I could go on but we still have to peruse through Channel Orange.
Nostalgia, Ultra catapult Frank into a different stratosphere. Everyone was paying attention, and he did not disappoint with his first album Channel Orange. It contained features the likes of Andre 3000, John Mayer and Odd Future gang. Lets not forget this was his DEBUT album. Music journalist Sasha Frere-Jones wrote that Channel Orange was "a combination of decadence and spiritual ache similar to Prince’s”.
But then poof. As quickly as he showed up - ike a unidentified signal from space, he disappeared. Just a blip on some radar.
Who really knows why Frank left. I tried not to get bogged down by the fodder of gossip. The internet’s ability to constrict an artist with half truths and mystifying gossip is enough to correctly compare it to a spider web. Frank found himself stuck among the celebrity letters, the back and forth, the “disappointing” live appearances, the worlds expectations, eect ect. He left. I don’t blame him. His absence has left his fans wanting more but have left many turned off by his blatant disregard. The way his camp has toyed with our emotions has defiantly left me feeling like an unrequited lover. But maybe that was his intention?
HIS MUSIC is ethereal. He is ethereal. All the other stuff is just jive.
I guess that’s why I’m staring into the abyss that is an Apple Live Stream. Black and white. Light footsteps in the background. A metal chain clanking somewhere. A room so empty, it sounds like the inside of a seashell. And yet we all know just how full that room really is.
#BOYSDONTCRY but I will if Frank is toying with me.
1:36 am- no update on his website.

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Never beg for love. Never beg someone to love you back or be with you when you want to. Never beg for someone’s time, commitment, affection and attention. Never beg someone to stay with you when you need him the most. Because in the first place, if he loves you that much, he won’t leave you and let go of your hand. He will never let you beg for his presence and love because he will give it to you with open arms. Don’t beg, it’s demeaning and degrading. Remember, if you have to beg, he’s not worth it. No one is worth begging for.
baekebyan (via wnq-writers)
Steve Irwin died the way he lived, with animals in his heart.
You’ll understand why storms are named after people.
Caitlyn Siehl (via wordsnquotes)
How social media and relentless public murders has changed the way we mourn.

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my. god.
brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrazil
i imagine this is what:
-driving down an empty highway in the middle of an august summer with all your windows down and big cotton ball clouds in the far distance
must feel like.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Almost halfway through 2016, I’m starting to think the Mayans were just off by a few years
I can’t look at a word without reading it
Have you ever try to study from a textbook before? Because let me tell you I can stare at a page full of words and not read a single one.