Whilst traveling through the Andes Mountains, we lost our corkscrew. Had to live on food and water for several days.
— W.C. Fields, on human tragedy

(Source: recordgrooves)

death, at last, is a bore – no more than pulling a shade. we do not die all at once, generally, but piece by piece, little by little. the young die hardest and live hardest and understand nothing. but they are the most generous and the truest and better fit to lead than the cautious wise.
— Charles Bukowski, Portions From A Wine-Stained Notebook

(Source: ronpolla)

the terror of nothingness, the horror vacui, is a dark night of the soul that must be avoided at all costs.



it’s been done

Graffiti painted August 13 in Belgrade.
Photo courtesy Andrej Isakovic/AFP.

Carlin on Campus, 1984

(Source: conelradstation)

(Source: clitoreon)

Hey Chuck- what's your fascination with public restrooms? There's quite a few scenes in your books that take place in public restrooms. My favorite is Madison's experience with the glory hole. Do you have any crazy experiences yourself?


Bathrooms are great because all the furniture is fixed.  Very little description is needed, and I can launch right into action.  Brandy Alexander overdoses in the bathroom — like Judy Garland and Jim Morrison.  The ‘Fight Club’ police chief is almost castrated in a bathroom.  Tender Branson dodges a very penis-like gun in a toilet stall.  The ‘Pygmy’ rape scene.  Bathrooms are places of utility and profane expression. 

What Happens in the Bathroom Stays in the Bathroom.  A place of secret weeping and masturbation.  A place where we don our masks. 


Even dwarfs wait for a phone call


Even dwarfs wait for a phone call


On the set of Harold and Maude (Hal Ashby, 1971)

i am in love with this photo

I am no nihilist. I am not even a cynic. I am, actually, rather romantic. And here’s my idea of romance:

You will soon be dead. Life will sometimes seem long and tough and, god, it’s tiring. And you will sometimes be happy and sometimes sad. And then you’ll be old. And then you’ll be dead.
— From Tim Minchin’s “Occasional Address