Between the security of childhood and the insecurity of second childhood, we find a fascinating mass of humanity called Sailors. They can be found anywhere: on ships, in bars, on leave, or in love and always in debt. Girls love them, civilians tolerate them and the government supports them, or so they claim.

A Sailor is laziness with a deck of cards, bravery with a tattooed arm, and the energy of a turtle, the slyness of a fox, the brain of a genius, the sincerity of a liar, and the aspiration of a Casanova. When he wants something, it is usually indecent and immoral, or against Navy regulations. His favorite pastimes are girls, females, broads, dames and members of the opposite sex. He dislikes Navy chow, answering letters, wearing his uniform, superior officers, and getting up in the morning. No other human being can cram into his shirt pocket; a comb, a little black book, a pack of gum, duty keys, a pack of cigarettes, his girl’s picture and what’s left of last month’s pay.

He likes to spend some of his money on girls, some on poker, most of it on booze, and what’s left…on foolishness. A sailor is a magical creature. You can lock him out of your house, but not out of your heart. You can scratch him off your mailing list, but not out of your mind. So you might as well give up.

He is your far-away-from-home lover, your one-and-only, good-for-nothing, liberty-minded, bundle of wrongdoing. But your shattered dreams become insignificant when that Sailor comes home and looks at you with those big, blood-shot eyes and says: “HI SWEETHEART!”


Unknown Sailor of Yesteryear (via thereisnorabbit)


Lauryn Hill | Can’t Take My Eyes Off You 

(Source: highrelease, via palabokofdoom)

"Sometimes you have to walk away from what you want to find what you deserve."