My dad’s the best. Keep fighting the good fight, pops.
A photograph of a prostitute in striped stockings, circa 1912. Part of E. J. Bellocq’s famed collection taken in Storyville, the legal red light district in turn of the century New Orleans.
Your mom’s butt.
I’m really into horns right now.
Thursday Night
Cannon Beach.
August, 2010
I want to be in Oregon so bad right now that I think I might puke.
(via loveinbrokenenglish)
Lemme tell you a little story about a cake. A cake so good that it has been known to make grown men weep and beg for a cup of tea.
My mom tracked down the baker that used to bake at my favorite restaurant in Sydney, and begged her to make me a lemon chiffon cake.
I dream about this cake. I have searched for the recipe, logging hours in the kitchen and crying into bowls of citrus-scented batter. Tonight, I dine in heaven.
Took a break from some commissions to whip this up.
It’s been on my mind.
Hell to the yes, you are all kinds of awesome. Can I print it off and put it in my classroom?
Add this to the list of things that will improve my life, right under “iPhone” and “unlimited colour coded binders and dividers.”
