Archive for the ‘blondes’ Category

Art School Lover

Posted On August 12, 2010 at 9:45 am in arteest, blondes, blue eyes, calvin klein, cute!, ford models oohhlallalala, green eyes, hipstars, hot, hottest guy ever, streetwear dudes

And now I’m out over $40,000

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Hey Cliff— look at me!

Posted On May 19, 2010 at 7:10 pm in and he's funny!, ave x, blondes, blue eyes, espn and coke, green eyes, trustworthiness of beards

lol

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bettying out (cheers to the pioneers edition)

Posted On May 17, 2010 at 11:23 am in ave x, blast from the past, blondes, blue eyes, bro, call me betty, famoso, professional hottie, shirtless, shit i stole

I spent everyday when I was 15 at a skateshop:

http://vice.typepad.com/vice_magazine/2009/05/new-york-bay-ridge-full-circle.html

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Inspired by Austin

Posted On May 12, 2010 at 7:34 pm in blondes, word

Written by Stef

I spend the night of my birthday drinking champagne on a fire escape in SoHo. The boy whose escape it is has long blonde hair. His hair is too long and too blonde. He is from Iowa where his hair was short and blonde, but he has not cut it since he moved to the city. I tie my hair up because the moisture in the air has made it overwhelmingly wide. He lets his fall onto his intriguing shoulders. He sits so close to me—our backs rest against his window, our legs stretch out along the bars, our bodies fill the space that was between them.

He pours champagne into our glasses until we have finished the bottle. I tell him sometimes my birthday makes me not sad exactly, but lonely, maybe. He says that’s what birthdays do. I hold my glass by its stem, balance it on my knee. I watch the bubbles—they are as small as pinpricks, wide as a strand of hair, and they rush to the surface insuch straight lines. I was taught that this is a sign of quality. I feel the bubbles inside me, tickling my stomach, my tongue, floating out to my fingers, my eyes. I ask him what it was like, growing up in Iowa. He tells me of his father, the farmer. Raised him on the land, huge acres swallowing up his house, cornfields so thick he got lost sometimes. The earth is solid where he is from; here, everything is suspended, shaky, the gaps in this fire escape larger than the rusting black slats. He runs his fingers through his hair when he talks, as though he were the girl, I the boy. As though he were trying to attract me.

All this hair, like all this city, is still so new to him. He says, more to himself than to me, that one day soon, maybe when his lease is up, he’ll move to Spain and, eventually, own a vineyard. He’ll craft the perfect, darker-than-blood, full-bodied wine. He says this as though there is nothing that could ever stop him. He can keep running; his hair can keep growing; he can move between cities and countries and he can fit into each so perfectly. The sun begins to rise. It is hidden from us but its rays curl up over the buildings, its light bounces between glass windows, it reaches us and weaves itself into the boy’s hair. His hair is gold. His hair is corn silk. His hair glitters with potential.

Posted by admin · Tags: austin, blonde hair, cornfields, http://murderandcreate.tumblr.com/, iowa · 1 Comment »