Caffeinated.

drinkyourjuice:

A few years ago I had a crush on a guy and he lived far away and we had this thing called “The Dream.” It was a euphemism for our dream future lives, but it was also a proper noun. The name of one place. One thing. So if we saw a piece of art we liked or an important thing we wanted, we’d link each other to it and say “for The Dream.”

It was basically this man’s life. Like, there was also a Manhattan skyscraper, an underwater component, and a space station — but the real Dream was this.

There’s such a visceral reaction to stuff like this for me. So much, “Yes! Exactly!” in owning a donkey. But in reality only about 70% of me could live this dream. 30% of me wants to be in the middle of the busiest place in the world and eat food that I don’t have to cook and use an electric toothbrush and sometimes not recycle because fuck it, we’re all going to die.

[video via saltyseathings]

This is the manliest /most impressive/most awesome thing I have seen in a while. And interesting because I’m reading Walden for my American Lit class. As a class, we still are not sure how impressive Thoreau was, since he only lived in the woods (barely outside of the city) for two years and had weekly visits from his mother who brought him home-cooked meals and cookies, and he went to town once a week to have dinner with the Emersons. But the man still has my attention. I mean, he built a tiny cabin to live in, harvested crops, spent most days among nature, and even though he wasn’t entirely in solitude, he did separate himself from his normal life for two whole years. Not to mention he is a respectable author with some great things to say about the natural world. So, kudos to Thoreau. And kudos, especially, to THIS GUY! 

((The mass of men lead quiet lives of desperation.))