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@baltears / baltears.tumblr.com

beautiful spooky and stupid
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Willem de Kooning. Pink Angels. c. 1945. Oil and charcoal on canvas, 52 × 40″ (132.1 × 101.6 cm). Frederick R. Weisman Art Foundation, Los Angeles. © 2011 The Willem de Kooning Foundation/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York  Source: MOMA

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exitwound

Throwing Children by Ross Gay

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kafkaguy

[Text: Throwing Children / Ross Gay.

It is really something when a kid who has a hard time becomes a kid who's having a good time in no small part thanks to you throwing that kid in the air again and again on a mile long walk home from the Indian joint as her mom looks sideways at you like you don't need to keep doing this because you're pouring with sweat and breathing a little bit now you're getting a good workout but because the kid laughs like a horse up there laughs like a kangaroo beating her wings against the light because she laughs like a happy little kid and when coming down and grabbing your forearm to brace herself for the time when you will drop her which you don't and slides her hand into yours as she says for the fortieth time the fiftieth time inexhaustible her delight again again again and again and you say give me til the redbud tree or give me til the persimmon tree because she knows the trees and so quiet you almost can't hear through her giggles she says ok til the next tree when she explodes howling yanking your arm from the socket again again all the wolves and mourning doves flying from her tiny throat and you throw her so high she lives up there in the tree for a minute she notices the ants organizing on the bark and a bumblebee carousing the little unripe persimmon in its beret she laughs and laughs as she hovers up there like a bumblebee like a hummingbird up there giggling in the light like a giddy little girl up there the world knows how to love. /end ID.]

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eirene

Gene Tierney with portrait masks by Lillian Bettinger.

Photographer: Horst P. Horst

Vogue, June 1st, 1940

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Wild how I’ve been saying this since day 1 and have been called an anti-Semite, a terrorist, and been scolded for “blaming a people for their government’s actions.”

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cant relate to being tempted to use chatgpt for literally anything. id blow that thang up w my brain if i could it is worthless

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baltears

maybe if i can vibrate the molecules in my body at the exact right frequency i can return to livejournal in the 00s

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roundtop

Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear so immediately that the two of you, on some level, belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you’re in love or creating things together or foxhole buddies or partners in crime. It’s so clear, right off the bat, that this is what you’re supposed to be doing, that this is what you’re for. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest of circumstances, and they help you make a life. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but. It definitely makes me believe in something.

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