FFFFFFFF

This blog.
I use it to collect images and share my favorites.
Sometimes I post my own art, which you can check out at my art blog, brainfarto.

Links

brainfarto.com
brainfarto (on tumblr)
zoemoss.deviantart.com
vimeo
youtube
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kanotynes:

maxtknoblauch:

The difference between New York City animals and animals everywhere else

New for @mashable

berryness:

clientsfromhell:

Client: I threw out that black pen, it was out of ink.

Me: What black pen?

Client: The one that was lying on your tablet.

Me: You threw out my $150 Wacom pen?

Client: I tried writing with it and it didn’t work. It must’ve been out of ink.

image

theycalledhimsanyi:

csajom és én 

theycalledhimsanyi:

csajom és én 

#FrenchGirls

#FrenchGirls

zgmfd:

80s cereal boxes

WHAT’S WRONG WITH PACMAN!!!???

boringoldraphael:

We will be close on Friday 18 July.
We will be so close on Friday 18 July. For one night only I will hold your face in my hands and I will kiss you quickly and then slowly and then quickly and we will feel this incredible connection and we will tell each other everything.
On Friday 18 July, we will feed each other berries, and we will sing-mumble-slur old half-remembered camp songs, and we will laugh about how there was a time, not even that long ago, when we hadn’t even met, and what were we doing not meeting, who were we fooling, whose time were we wasting?
Sitting on my bed, recalling the origin of your knee’s crescent moon scar, you’ll gesticulate wildly and I’ll watch the cigarette sparks like evaporating fireflies, dizzy for a home in your discarded black blouse.
"I want to know you completely," I’ll whisper into every crevice of your body. We’ll make up constellations out of the freckles on our thighs, rich mythologies of ancient long-dead civilizations.
"Did you know I can juggle?" you’ll say, and I’ll say, "Show me."
Every other night will have been rehearsal for Friday 18 July — we had to be ready. Everything was pushing us imperceptibly toward this moment — if I hadn’t missed that train, if you hadn’t moved for the job, just imagine.
"I don’t want it to be tomorrow," you’ll say, a single tear escaping as you bitterly laugh at the futility of the sentiment. "I want it to be Friday July 18 forever."
And when the morning comes, our love, like bugs, will scatter in the light. We will dress ourselves while facing the wall, we will scramble for our phones, we will be strangers.
And we will realize that Friday July 18, like every day in history before it, was a moment, a twenty-four-hour trick of the light, a thing that happened once and never again.
And that sad truth will just about swallow us whole.
Sorry for any inconvinience.

boringoldraphael:

We will be close on Friday 18 July.

We will be so close on Friday 18 July. For one night only I will hold your face in my hands and I will kiss you quickly and then slowly and then quickly and we will feel this incredible connection and we will tell each other everything.

On Friday 18 July, we will feed each other berries, and we will sing-mumble-slur old half-remembered camp songs, and we will laugh about how there was a time, not even that long ago, when we hadn’t even met, and what were we doing not meeting, who were we fooling, whose time were we wasting?

Sitting on my bed, recalling the origin of your knee’s crescent moon scar, you’ll gesticulate wildly and I’ll watch the cigarette sparks like evaporating fireflies, dizzy for a home in your discarded black blouse.

"I want to know you completely," I’ll whisper into every crevice of your body. We’ll make up constellations out of the freckles on our thighs, rich mythologies of ancient long-dead civilizations.

"Did you know I can juggle?" you’ll say, and I’ll say, "Show me."

Every other night will have been rehearsal for Friday 18 July — we had to be ready. Everything was pushing us imperceptibly toward this moment — if I hadn’t missed that train, if you hadn’t moved for the job, just imagine.

"I don’t want it to be tomorrow," you’ll say, a single tear escaping as you bitterly laugh at the futility of the sentiment. "I want it to be Friday July 18 forever."

And when the morning comes, our love, like bugs, will scatter in the light. We will dress ourselves while facing the wall, we will scramble for our phones, we will be strangers.

And we will realize that Friday July 18, like every day in history before it, was a moment, a twenty-four-hour trick of the light, a thing that happened once and never again.

And that sad truth will just about swallow us whole.

Sorry for any inconvinience.


tetsuota:

lord help m ehelp me help me

higgzorz:

my aesthetic is 240p anime uploaded in three parts to youtube

pizzadaycomics:

Pizza Day Comics #91
"Snake Eyes"

pizzadaycomics:

Pizza Day Comics #91

"Snake Eyes"

nevver:

Working on my novel, Cory Arcangel


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