i always think abt my cousin in greece who's like obsessed with american culture, bc ill say that im going to a barbecue and she'll be like "wow.... a real life american barbecue... will there be red cups?" you bet your ass there'll be red cups. take my hand. have a hot dog. all your dreams can come true here at the real life american barbecue
i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point
you get it. you get the themes. i dont have time to do it justice. just look at it its on the ceiling
these exchanges and this fiddling about for the collective to appreciate in passing is, to me, true artistic spirit. I don't know what the past was truly like to live, but in my heart i know that humans have always been... like this
Tumblr is the closest we'll get to living in Paris in the 1920s. There goes our Hemingway divorcing his 3rd wife talking shit drunk off his ass with Dali or something
can someone hire me as a lighthouse keeper. my grip on reality is soooo stable and i will behave so normally under conditions of extreme isolation. and i promise i wont try to fuck the light
OMEGA in The Bad Batch 3.01 // 3.03
Mia Bergeron, Ancestors, 2021
i love replying 👍 to my parents. two can play this game
Georges-Paul Leroux (French, 1877-1957), View of the Gardens of the Villa d’Este in Tivoli, 1912. Oil on canvas, 24 x 15 in.
Ugh how is this the first time I’m noticing Gideon’s skeletal leg in the gtn cover art…she’s literally got one foot in the grave from page 0 😭😭😭
they're so fucking real for this
