The amount I identify with Jerry/Larry is really sad. We can’t all be Leslies or Donnas all the time.

(Source: bodiebroadus, via wasarahbi)



Today I thought it would be fun to highlight Cincos Puntos, an independent publisher whose mission is to publish “great books which make a difference in the way you see the world.”

If you’d told us some twenty-six years ago when we first cooked up plans for Cinco Puntos in our house that we’d be meeting anyone out in cyberspace this many years later, we would have been amazed. And we still are amazed, because publishing is one miraculous business. To watch a book unfold, to watch it find its audience and its life in the hands of a reader is a stunningly miraculous business.

We are Bobby and Lee Byrd, owners and publishers of Cinco Puntos. We started Cinco Puntos Press in 1985. We are a small, very independent publishing company rooted here in El Paso, Texas, not three miles north of the U.S. Mexican Border. We are both writers. We started Cinco Puntos because we wanted more time to write and we found as we have moved further and further into the publishing life, that publishing, like writing, is an act of self-discovery. Every book takes us to a new place. Each book leads us into unexpected intellectual terrains. These are places we might have never experienced without the provocation of new books and the business of making and selling them.

Publishing, like writing, is an organic process. We don’t know exactly what the book will become when we first see it in manuscript, but in the give and take between us and the author and, as it passes through our hands as editors, and through the hands of the people we work with who translate or design or illustrate the text, it becomes something new, different, and wonderful—a true collaboration.

Check out some of their award-winning and upcoming young adult titles!

POC books! Check them out y’all!

Last Night I Sang to the Monster is incredible, gut-wrenching and hopeful all at the same time. Go. Read. Now.

(via wiseacrewhimsy)

"Drink up. Whiskey’s God’s way of letting us know he loves us and he wants us to be happy.”

I aspire to be Lix Storm.

(Source: queenrmills, via punkslovepoints)


(Have you seen the back room of a library?)

Me and my desk are laughing at this too.

(via wiseacrewhimsy)

Tags: librarians


The Night Watch for England, Edward Shanks (1942)

The crescent moon is down, I am alone,
Alone with this dim hilltop and the stars,
Alone as I have never been till now.
Huge is the night that lies on England, pricked
With all the trembling manifold of stars.
Small is the land we guard.
Small is the house I left an hour ago
To keep my watch for it and all the rest,
Small, small am I in this prodigious night.

There is no silence for the nightly watcher.
I feel no wind, yet leaf stirs after leaf and thin airs 
Whimper through the grass, die and revive.
And as my ears are tuned to the night’s music 
I hear far off gentle waves that fall softly on an unseen beach.
I hear the gentle susurration of the pebbles 
Dragged half an inch by a weak undertow.
There is no silence in my night, for now small beasts I cannot see are on the move,
Each on its business scuffles in the gorse, cautious but audible.

And now a scream, sharp, harsh and quickly stifled.
There they are my fellow countrymen,
All on four feet as proper denizens as I.
That shadow slipping across the now grown clearer skyline,
That was a badger,
One that I saw playing outside the earth last time I rode this way, 
Just after dawn, last time.
Last time it was the day we knew that war was toppling on us.
I loved you then, my fellow countrymen.

The night goes on, the stars wheel by,
And this is the dead center of the lonely watch.
Nothing for me to do.
The sky is empty of all, save those remote unpitying lights.
Still I can feel no wind, and yet a chill soaks through my flesh.

The night is long, so long.
But I am not alone.
My out-stretched palm rubs on the short rough grass.
My fingers crush a scabious flower,
I can prick myself with the gorse.
Or bring the wild thyme fragrant from ground to nostril.
All these I love.
For these I watch tonight.
For these and for the village in the valley, and my own house in it

If you need a reason to listen to this, let it be for Armitage saying the word “susurration.”

(Source: frankreich, via detectivejane)






We need to stop talking. We talk too much. Instead, we have to do something.

this show getting cancelled was a TRAVESTY. Romola Garai needs to be in EVERYTHING

Well that’s that then. I’ll be under my desk crying for the rest of the day. Thanks internet. Thanks a lot.

(Source: tropicaltrash, via hellotailor)


Don’t date a girl who reads

date a girl who makes other people read

date a girl who kidnapped children and forced them to read

date a girl who is so beautiful that all who look at her are horrified beyond comprehension

date a girl who is not female

date a librarian

welcome to night vale

(via the-librarians-of-night-vale)



One note = one vote. Like or reblog to vote for your state! Go your-state-name-here!

TFiOS in Illinois!



One note = one vote. Like or reblog to vote for your state! Go your-state-name-here!

TFiOS in Illinois!

(via foundinthevault)

"For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse.

So collapse.
This is not your destruction.

This is your birth."

n.t. (via facina-oris)

(via disjointed-ramblings)