If you remember, a few months ago Dolls Kill promised me they would stop selling real fur. I spoke to Bobby, one of their representatives, and he gave me his word. (I recorded our conversation so they cannot deny it).
I’ve been checking their website daily, and they’re still for sale. This is truly unfortunate. They told me that they were really concerned about animals welfare, but if they really were, they would NOT continue to sell foxtails.This is a classic case of greed over compassion.
Dolls Kill put greed over compassion and we need to let them know this is not okay.
Tweet to them at @DOLLSKILL. Ask them to go #furfree.
Please visit furfreela.com/dollskill for full details on the campaign.
SIGN THE PETITION HERE: http://chn.ge/yp3Obk
apologies, my friends, for the abused animal photo, but i need to reblog this. I hate this fashion trend so much, and no animal should suffer that way.
dumbest trend ever.
why do people even buy clothes online still? better yet why do people still consume NEW clothes? i work at a clothing boutique where we get new things in every week and it has truly put a bad taste in my mouth for the clothing industry.
re-use, re-sale, re-cycle EVERYTHING. and definitely don’t hurt animals for style.
dear God, help us.
feeling about the same as that little guy
(Source: rubyredfeathers, via mental-agony)
Real-life Grave of the Fireflies: (Photo) Stoic Japanese orphan, standing at attention having brought his dead younger brother to a cremation pyre, Nagasaki, by Joe O’Donnell 1945
This photograph was taken by an American photojournalist, Joe O’Donnell, in Nagasaki in 1945.
He recently spoke to a Japanese interviewer about this picture:
“I saw a boy about ten years old walking by. He was carrying a baby on his back. In those days in Japan, we often saw children playing with their little brothers or sisters on their backs, but this boy was clearly different. I could see that he had come to this place for a serious reason. He was wearing no shoes. His face was hard. The little head was tipped back as if the baby were fast asleep.
“The boy stood there for five or ten minutes. The men in white masks walked over to him and quietly began to take off the rope that was holding the baby. That is when I saw that the baby was already dead. The men held the body by the hands and feet and placed it on the fire.
“The boy stood there straight without moving, watching the flames. He was biting his lower lip so hard that it shone with blood. The flame burned low like the sun going down. The boy turned around and walked silently away.”
(via culturerevo)
(via mental-agony)
I love this.
hahhahahahahahhahahahahahahahaha
(Source: ripmefromtheground, via oldpalememories)
Visible Children: We got trouble.
For those asking what you can do to help, please link to visiblechildren.tumblr.com wherever you see KONY 2012 posts. And tweet a link to this page to famous people on Twitter who are talking about KONY 2012!
I do not doubt for a second that those involved in KONY 2012 have great intentions, nor…
a story about hands that doesn’t really have an end.
i accidently glanced at my hands today znd saw them in a way i didn’t mean to see them in. it was the back of my left hand that caught my eye first; it felt like i was looking at myself, as if i were standing and infront of me was me, or someone that looked just like me. a feeling like that, where your stomach drops. i stopped what i was doing and looked closer at the freckle thats placed on the skin between my middle finger and index finger. this freckle hasn’t always been with me i remember when it popped up on me suddenly in the summer of 2009 and i felt more then surprised when i realized how much older my hands looked than the way i imagine them. i can pinch the skin on m fingers and it will stick and stand up like playdough. they’re discolored, frail and the the front side, where the knuckles are, theres a layer of thick caloused skin.
I looked back at the freckle thats almost 3 years old now and trailed my right index finger down from it to the middle of my hand where a freckle i’ve had for all 20 years of my life is starting to fade and blend in with the colors my hands are now taking in.
i looked at the cyst on my wrist, the cuts from scissors, burns from cigarettes, cat scratches, and all the places where wounds or stories once were that aren’t there anymore.
after this i had one feeling. an overwhleming knowledge that because of these hands, i am immortal.
what i’ve touched, who i’ve tocuched, the things i’ve lifted, carried, the tears i’ve wiped, the faces i’ve held, the hands i’ve shook and slapped and clasped with mine, the words i’ve written and never ever said.
i hold these things still deep in the pours of my hands and they’ll hold me together, they’ll move my influence through touch for all eternity.
I know i am still young even though i can see the age process, really just beginning, i am prime time hands right now and i want to use them for beautiful and brilliant things. i want to use them now for my children when they are my age. i want to use them on Ian for the rest of my life.
the reason this feels so important to me is i know so many olde people whose hands are dead. they’re done using them for anything other than to keep their own body’s alive. they might as well cut them off or tie them up and eat through a tube. i might as well cut them off for them BUT there it is… i won’t.
i’ll push and pull their hands until they work again. i’ll rub them and sooth them, stroke them, i’ll hold them to my face and cry over them.
anyway… I love my hands and i want to love yours too.
All the shits you need for your ear-holes, right here!
djponyplay, Pup N’ Suds, RuffIan, Ian, or whatever the fuck you want to call him, it doesn’t matter. just dance.
Last nights party was tight. download that shit and come out next time cause you’re all missing out.
Is that true
I cannot tell you the countless times I’ve driven down taylorsville road and told myself, ”I will not get an ego about this. I don’t need that kind of spirit”
Now i believe I was sinking myself unknowingly yet eagerly into my own condemnation. I put a hex on myself with my tumbling thoughts.
I have to keep my head level from both perspectives; high and low states of mind. I represent the indecisive age of how to behave. My urgency to live, all at once, took control from me. I won’t allow it anymore.
I need to relax and cigarettes aren’t working for me anymore. In-fact smoking only makes my worries heavier considering all things. Not that my worries are worthy and neither is my pride, they just seem to linger there sometimes
Things move fast but I know I can move faster. Rambunctiously changing with the times; I am calm then I am speedy.
I took a break from this and split a cigarette with Ian immediately. I hope you don’t confuse the words i’m saying. You have to take my tone into consideration, I’m content in the ironic, coincidental, contradictions of my life.
I guess you could say I’m content in my discontent. I say it quite often. Since 08 at least.
I won’t mind dying young. I’ve seen a lot already and learned my fair share about reality. So from now on I’ll treat my body with the respect it’s always deserved and it can take me if it wants or try to forgive me.
I did the damage, I’ll pay the price.
Apple and water. SO GOOD.
Look at those Tatas. Lil cutie.
oh god i miss tumblr. actually.. i miss real life. bahahhahahahahahah
(Source: riddl3m)
(via hllrybrmstr)
Perhaps we dont like what we see: our hips, our loss of hair, our shoe size, our dimples, our knuckles too big, our eating habits, our disposition. We have disclosed these things in secret, likes and dislikes, behind doors with locks, our lonely rooms, our messy desks, our empty hearts, our sudden bursts of energy, our sudden bouts of depression. Don’t worry. Put away your mirrors and your beauty magazines and your books on tape. There is someone right here who knows you more than you do, who is making room on the couch, who is fixing a meal, who is putting on your favorite record, who is listening intently to what you have to say, who is standing there with you, face to face, hand to hand, eye to eye, mouth to mouth. There is no space left uncovered. This is where you belong.
—Sufjan Stevens (via skeletales)
(via circlesofmotion)
My family.
(via suicideblonde)
