Also I’ve just grown too self conscious here and hide things I like bc I’m too embarrassed. Like, what the fuck?
the party has moved
not to make a thing about it, but lemme know if you wanna know where the new blog is and I’ll happily share
just gotta dodge some eyes/be able to vent without ppl knowing who I am/without my face name personal deets all posted, bull’s eye, on my back
((and without the looming ex’s eyes, duh ))
men will love the shining and then say shelley duvall is overacting. buddy she's carrying it
Still thinking about that post that was like "it hurts so bad that hes a fictional character and i cant make him go to therapy" and someone in the reblogs tagged it "dmitri karamazov"
Gold snake rings. Snakes were a common motif in jewelry during Roman times. They were associated with healing and the god Asclepius, with protection, as well as resurrection, and immortality.
Roman, c. 1st century BC - 1st century AD
I need to go read some books I've been looking at the moving image to much its unbalancing my humours
I hate when I get up in the morning and I have to go through the maze
Yamazaki Shishi work
YANOYA project of Akiko Yano and Tokyo University of the Arts「やの屋」矢野顕子×東京芸術大学 - 2012
Video here :
Elaine May and John Cassavetes on the set of Mikey and Nicky (1976)
Poetry, the only father, landscape, moon, food, the bowl of clam chowder in Nahcotta, was I happy, mountains of oyster shells gleaming silver, poetry, the only gold, or is it, my breasts, feet, my hands, index finger, fingernail, hangnail, paper cut, what is divine, I drove to the sea, wandered aimlessly, I stared at my tree, I said in my mind there’s my tree, there’s my tree I said in my mind, I remember myself before words, thrilled at my parents’ touch, opened milkweed with no agenda, blew the fluff, no reaching for comparison, to be free of signification, wriggle out of the figurative itchy sweater, body, breasts, vulva, little cave of the uterus, clit, need, touch, come, I came before I knew what coming was, iambic pentameter, did I feel it, does language eclipse feeling, does it eclipse the eclipse.
Diane Seuss
sweet mother of god, my poor poor shoulders