Ingrid (by Corrinne Töfü)
I eat 16 saltine crackers then I lick my fingers
“My God, they’re killing us.”
May 4th, 1970
![thedailywhat:
Marriage Proposal of the Day: In what is believed to be the first proposal of marriage between two gay men — and war vets — on a U.S. military base, Navy vet Cory Huston asked Marine Avarice Guerrero to marry him Tuesday at Camp Pendleton in San Diego. Here’s the story:
Under a bright Southern California sky at Camp Pendleton’s Camp Del Mar near Oceanside, California, a full two hours before his boyfriend’s return from the badlands of Afghanistan, Cory Huston waited nervously. Huston, who was discharged under the former Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy, chain smoked as he rehearsed the simple proposal he would deliver when Guerrero would arrive.
Finally, luggage in tow, Guerrero emerged with a smile on his face. Upon seeing Huston, Guerrero dropped his bags; aimed a kiss toward Huston’s lips; and opened his arms to his boyfriends waiting embrace. The time and distance of 10 months’ separation evaporated in a public show of affection that less than a year ago would have been cause for court martial. After a few minutes of emotional holding and kissing, Huston went anxiously down on one knee; looked up at Guerrero, who was dressed from head to toe in military fatigues; and produced an engagement ring and the time-honored phrase, “Will you marry me?”
Huston’s mild tremble, a result of hours and days of anticipation about this day, was quickly quieted by the one word every hopeful fiancé wants to hear: “Yes.”
[hypervocal]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m35gtwp5cI1qzpwi0o1_500.jpg)
Marriage Proposal of the Day: In what is believed to be the first proposal of marriage between two gay men — and war vets — on a U.S. military base, Navy vet Cory Huston asked Marine Avarice Guerrero to marry him Tuesday at Camp Pendleton in San Diego. Here’s the story:
Under a bright Southern California sky at Camp Pendleton’s Camp Del Mar near Oceanside, California, a full two hours before his boyfriend’s return from the badlands of Afghanistan, Cory Huston waited nervously. Huston, who was discharged under the former Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy, chain smoked as he rehearsed the simple proposal he would deliver when Guerrero would arrive.
Finally, luggage in tow, Guerrero emerged with a smile on his face. Upon seeing Huston, Guerrero dropped his bags; aimed a kiss toward Huston’s lips; and opened his arms to his boyfriends waiting embrace. The time and distance of 10 months’ separation evaporated in a public show of affection that less than a year ago would have been cause for court martial. After a few minutes of emotional holding and kissing, Huston went anxiously down on one knee; looked up at Guerrero, who was dressed from head to toe in military fatigues; and produced an engagement ring and the time-honored phrase, “Will you marry me?”
Huston’s mild tremble, a result of hours and days of anticipation about this day, was quickly quieted by the one word every hopeful fiancé wants to hear: “Yes.”
This is
She stands in the doorway. Her blue dress fits loosely around her small bodice and hangs just barely above her scraped knees. Her mustard yellow scarf with tribal designs is looped once, maybe twice around her neck and now billows over her chest. Her hair is in a disorganized bun with long curls that have fallen out of the knot and are now draping her neck and back.
She begins to make her way across the dark grey-carpeted room towards her desk in the middle of the front row. She looks like poetry, and walks like a waltz. Her arms, small but strong, hang by her side, swaying gently with opposite motion of her legs trudging forward. One hand grasps the notebooks that contain her every thought, each significant and angelic in the way it is written, and the way it is thought. She slowly puts her things on the desk, so quietly that no one can hear her soft movements.
Her large green eyes are fixed on a stain on the floor just five feet from where she is sitting. They don’t move, don’t blink. They stay fixed; they stay there, as if searching for every misstep she’s taken, though they aren’t her fault. They stay fixed, they stay there, for she’s trying to see every answer to the questions that remain unanswered and overlooked, but alas, she finds none. Within that stain on the floor she’s determining if she’s good or evil, if she’s flight of fight. As she sits, her eyes stay fixed, and nervous thought run in her head.
She is-
a sometimes quiet individual.
Prairie dogs kiss to show affection.
(via thewhitesombrero)
