Hope is a the thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson

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Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul, 

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all.

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

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Unicorn Frappuccino – Will you try it?

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The Foods Around Me

Probably the worst tasting Starbucks drink ever to be created. Literally tastes like a unicorn went to chipotle and shit in a cup.

Unicorn Frappucino:

An instant star of social media platforms, it’s literally on all of them check. Starbucks released this limited time drink in all stores this week. Being completely different than all other drink releases the description on the drink is absolutely terrible.

The Starbucks description reads:

“The flavor-changing, color-changing, totally-not-made-up Unicorn Frappuccino. Magical flavors start off sweet and fruity transforming to pleasantly sour. Swirl it to reveal a color-changing spectacle of purple and pink. It’s finished with whipped cream sprinkled pink and blue fairy powders.”

How it should be described:

This drink misses its mark on all levels. The sweetness completely overpowers the flavors of the drink. Its sourness is a blue raspberry that takes away from the mango syrup. The consistency doesn’t help the uniqueness in flavor. It has a…

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Women Crush Wednesday (Throwback) – Lindsay Lohan “Smoke Break” by Ryan Fu

It was another hectic car chase with Lindsay today following her from her mandatory community service at the Red Cross. I always thought chasing someone on the streets was already crazy but successful following someone on the freeway took skills and balls. Especially when Lindsay was behind the wheel pretending it was the Indy 500 trying to get away from us. She wanted to stay out of the public eye because of the recent bad press about her rock star lifestyle. Of course, the media blew it out proportion calling her a troubled lost young adult, not resembling her younger former self. In any case, she didn’t give up all day long which seemed like she wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. 

We were determined to get a shot of her because everyone wanted to know what she was up to and everyone loves a fall from grace story. We carefully navigate our cars in and out of traffic, amazingly not causing any traffic accidents. She thankfully gets off the freeway heading towards Hollywood. We all prepare ourselves for her landing, telling my partner in the other car to get ready. She drives into a residential neighborhood, finally stopping at her assistant’s house. 

We quickly park our rides right in the middle of street blocking incoming traffic. We try to shoot her as soon as she gets out of her car but she puts her jacket over her head running towards the house as we try to get any kind of angle of her face but failing miserably. We then make the cardinal sin by getting on her property but I noticed what we were going and I stopped myself but unfortunately it didn’t stop the others from trying to take pictures of her. Looking at other paps not give a fuck about her private space as they walk all over the assistants Rose garden, shooting her right on her doorstep as she walks in to get away from the savages. 

Most of the paps decide to leave because they all felt like she wasn’t going out anymore because we acted like such animals towards her on the way in. My partner and I were the only ones to stay behind because we didn’t great shots of her going in. We quietly stayed inside of our cars hoping that she would step out again trying to get something for all our hard work today. An hour passes by as I start becoming claustrophobic inside of my own car.

I had to step outside, lighting up a fag. My partner had the same brilliant idea joining me outside as we smoked right in front of Lindsay’s house. As we were trying to relax we hear a faint call in the distance. It was Lindsay asking for a match.

We turn around looking at Lindsay walk towards us as we both don’t react to what was happening. She casually walks up towards us asking for a light again as my partner finally gives her a lighter. There was a bit of awkward silence for a couple of minutes as you would imagine as we both look at Lilo both of us thinking, why the hell we are not shooting the shit out her. She breaks the uncomfortable silence by talking about the weather as we respond with one word answers still in shock to what was going on. We were in the Twilight Show where she was a normal person and we weren’t scumbag paparazzis trying to get a photo.

We were just normal people sharing a metaphorical fire together using the bond of lung cancer. Looking at her carefully smoking her cigarette, she didn’t look like a troubled or lost person. She looked like any another young woman trying to get her shit together but with the add pressure of media. If we were in her shoes we wouldn’t probably handle it as well as she did. She finished her last puff saying it was great talking to us even though we only said a couple of words. It was nice to see we could be normal people if only for a couple of minutes. 

She walked back into her house as we walk back into our cars thinking about how amazing that interaction was between us and Lindsay. A couple of minutes later she came out with her assistant as we start shooting her again, walking towards her car pretending that we didn’t have an incredible bond we made just minutes ago.

But this is what it is, a symbiotic relationship between the hunted and the hunters, but always knowing we were all the same.

Just a bunch of people trying to make sense of this crazy ass world we are living in which all of us trying are best and hopefully we can stop cutting each other down, but let’s face it.

Haters are going to hate. It’s easy to say shit while you’re looking up from the bottom. I say “fuck em,” give them a reason to hate and just do you. Remember not everyone liked Jesus, but it didn’t stop him from being legendary.

RYAN FU

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BLW Interview – Donald Trump supporter – Jon Voight says Miley Cyrus & Shia LaBeouf are GUILTY of TREASON

4

Poetry Mondays – Cat’s Tongue by Ryan Fu

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I stand across from you


in our tiny studio apartment

letting the silence fill up the space

as I wonder what happened to us.

We used to be inseparable,

but now we’re ghost, haunting each other

waiting on faith like Jack and Rose

onboard the Titanic.

I wonder if one our cats could talk,

what they would say?


They probably would say what we were

too scared to say.

That this is over.

There’s no going back.

You can’t put a Band Aid


in a gaping hole. 

So, I stand across from you


in our tiny studio apartment.

Between us an ocean of unhappiness


waiting for a life raft.

RYAN FU

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Twas just this time last year I died by Emily Dickinson

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‘Twas just this time, last year, I died.

I know I heard the Corn,

When I was carried by the Farms 

It had the Tassels on 

I thought how yellow it would look 

When Richard went to mill 

And then, I wanted to get out,

But something held my will. 

I thought just how Red — Apples wedged

The Stubble’s joints between 

And the Carts stooping round the fields

To take the Pumpkins in 

I wondered which would miss me, least,

And when Thanksgiving, came,

If Father’d multiply the plates 

To make an even Sum 

And would it blur the Christmas glee

My Stocking hang too high

For any Santa Claus to reach

The Altitude of me 

But this sort, grieved myself,

And so, I thought the other way,

How just this time, some perfect year 

Themself, should come to me 

THE COMPLETE POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON

Legends by Ryan Fu (The Hated Ones)

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As a kid,

I’ve always wanted to capture

a dragon

but I wondered what

would I’ve done

if I actually caught one?

So day in

&

day out

I eat

&

take shit

with a smile on my face

just for the chance to write

my own story.

Because isn’t that the only reason

why we do anything?

Why we abuse

&

torture ourselves,

until we are halfway to our graves. 

We want to be remembered.

We want our words

&

actions

to live on past the afterlife

making us immortal.

We are tired of not being the narrative

because we want to stand out.

We want to become heroes

in our own story. 

So, I remain steadfast

with my pen

&

my balls

waiting for the opportunity,

still chasing that dragon.

Photo Credit: Andy Fair Hurst

RYAN FU

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The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

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Wizardpaths

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

THE POETRY OF ROBERT FROST: THE COLLECTED POEMS, COMPLETE AND UNABRIDGED

Happy Author’s Day!!! – What’s your favorite author?

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Every year on November 1, millions of people celebrate authors and the books that they write on National Author’s Day.

After her grandmother’s death in 1968, Sue Cole promoted the observance of National Authors Day.  She urged people to write a note to their favorite author on November 1, to “brighten up the sometimes lonely business of being a writer”.  She also suggested flying the American flag as another way of showing appreciation for the men and women who have created American literature. 

After her grandmother’s death in 1968, Sue Cole promoted the observance of National Authors Day.  She urged people to write a note to their favorite author on November 1, to “brighten up the sometimes lonely business of being a writer”.  She also suggested flying the American flag as another way of showing appreciation for the men and women who have created American literature. 

For a list of American novelists, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_American_novelists

In 1928, Nellie Verne Burt McPherson, president of the Bement, Illinois Women’s Club had an idea of setting aside a day to celebrate American authors.  McPherson was a teacher and throughout her life, an avid reader.  While she was recuperating in the hospital during World War I, she wrote a fan letter to fiction writer Irving Bacheller, telling him how much she enjoyed reading his story “Eben Holden’s Last Day A’ Fishin”.  Upon receiving her letter, Bacheller sent her an autographed copy of another story and it was then that McPherson realized that she would never be able to adequately thank him for his gift.  McPerson decided to show her appreciation by submitting an idea for a National Author’s Day to the General Federation of Women’s Clubs.  A resolution was passed declaring November 1 as a day to honor American writers.  The United States Department of Commerce recognized this day in 1949.

Credit: National Calendar

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