stuck in the middle with yoush @abbyevan - Tumblr Blog

I think I'm going to remember this phrase every time I cook for the next five years

My dad was eating pistachios so I reached my hand out and he just started peeling them and giving them to me. Then suddenly went “I really hope you find someone who loves you a lot” and I went “enough to peel my pistachios for me?” And he laughed and said “yeah exactly” before carrying on giving me more

peopleareaproblem

The Raincoat

by Ada Limón

When the doctor suggested surgery

and a brace for all my youngest years,

my parents scrambled to take me

to massage therapy, deep tissue work,

osteopathy, and soon my crooked spine

unspooled a bit, I could breathe again,

and move more in a body unclouded

by pain. My mom would tell me to sing

songs to her the whole forty-five minute

drive to Middle Two Rock Road and forty-

five minutes back from physical therapy.

She’d say, even my voice sounded unfettered

by my spine afterward. So I sang and sang,

because I thought she liked it. I never

asked her what she gave up to drive me,

or how her day was before this chore. Today,

at her age, I was driving myself home from yet

another spine appointment, singing along

to some maudlin but solid song on the radio,

and I saw a mom take her raincoat off

and give it to her young daughter when

a storm took over the afternoon. My god,

I thought, my whole life I’ve been under her

raincoat thinking it was somehow a marvel

that I never got wet.

pardalote

Finished stitching my Oversight series.

12 small embroidered poem-objects in wool, linen, cotton, silk, stitched on canvaswork mesh and edged in glass beads.

akajustmerry

In light of the no.1 trending topic on this site, I'd like to inform youse that Kitty Kendall, one of the survivors who bravely spoke out against Neil Gaiman and accused him of rape in 2025, has said here and here that if you are looking to support her and other survivors, you can make a donation to OurVOICE (the counselling service Kendall herself used) or your local rape crisis centre. If you can't make a donation, you can help to ensure people do not forget what Kendall and other survivors have gone through and continue to go through as they pursue legal action, and that Gaiman has already spent a lot of money in the attempt to sue these women for speaking out.

cyclesofmystery

Clare Victor Dwiggins, 1908

I was amused by this rather “freaky” bit of Edwardiana, especially since I always got the feeling that Charles Dana Gibson, when drawing the Gibson Girl, was at least partially fantasizing about being stepped on or something.

feefal

Oyster mermaid~

feefal

ah fuck, so sorry ma’am-

ihavemovedyay-blog

Air Afrique: Air Afrique was a Pan-African airline that was mainly owned by many West African countries for most of its history. It was established as the official transnational carrier for francophone West and Central Africa, because many of these countries did not have the capability to create and maintain a national airline, and had its headquarters in Abidjan, Ivory Coast. The carrier was a member of the International Air Transport Association (IATA) as well as the French Union’s smaller IATA-like ATAF. source

occasionallysubtle

some new & some old ~ if you're opposed to *gestures everywhere* plz delete chat gpt cuz they're funding some atrocious shit i'm fully anti-ai but it's by far the most impressively evil ~ k thnx love ya'll byeeeeeee

fidelcostco

the human brain is so cool, if you're tired and stressed enough, your brain will go, "don't worry, I got you" and shadows will start moving

fidelcostco

and what's the genital situation on the shadows

fidelcostco

oh this is my post

sashayed

Mother and Daughter

The mother says, I am afraid. The daughter says, I am afraid. The mother says, My feet are cold. The daughter says, My feet are cold. The mother says, The car is sinking. The daughter says Yes, the car is sinking. The mother says, The water is heavy, and the daughter says, The water is very heavy. The mother says, I am too young for this. The daughter says, I want to grow old. The mother says, I can see the sky, and the daughter says, I can also see the sky. How about the moon, the mother says, and the daughter says, I can see the moon. What else hurts you, the mother says and the daughter says, What about you. I forgot to tell your father something, the mother says and the daughter says, I forgot to tell my father something. The mother says, I do not want to die. I do not want to die, the daughter says. I wanted to be a good mother, the mother says. Sometimes you weren’t, the daughter says. Sometimes you weren’t a good daughter either, the mother says and the daughter says, I wanted to be good. I can hear my heart, she says. I can hear my heart, she says. I wish I loved Jesus, she says and she says, I wish I loved Jesus. She says, The thud is unbearable. She says, The thud is unbearable. What do you mean you wish you loved Jesus, she says and she says, The water is dark. My clothes are getting heavier, she says. Heavier, she says, and heavier. She says, The water is up to my chin now, and she says, It is up to my chin too. What if this is the last thing I say to you, she says and she says, What if this is the last thing I say to you. She says, I cannot hold on much longer. Please, she says, hold on longer. The water is at my mouth, she says, and she says, Even if it is at your mouth.

Hayan Charara (b. 1972) Something Sinister, 2016

#hayan charara #words

autoenucleate

ROLLER DERBY KISSES, Acrylic on MDF and leather, Riikka Hyvönen

autoenucleate

bonus: here's my favourite title out of the series

multimousenette

Did not clock how absolutely HUGE these were

spacebrick3

couples outfit idea

heraldic-thunderbolt

"history will absolve me" as the e-mail signature

lakevida

i went to navy pier as a child and clowns took my father away and built a table out of him with three other dads and i always thought this was some unpleasant and vivid dream and i mentioned it to my mom one day a couple years ago and she was like Yaa when we went to chicago they made him do chair tricks with other men

they did this to him

prospitianescapee

“After a performance, I came out into the lobby where a middle-aged Dutch woman was waiting to see me. She politely inquired, “What is Hans doing now?” I responded, “Who do you mean by Hans?” “Hans Buruma, my husband,” she said. As she explained it, Hans Buruma was once in charge of mail delivery at the Amsterdam Central Post Office. Three years before, he had attended Heretics (Jashumon), a guest production from Tokyo presented by my theatre troupe at the Mickery Theater. Just after the play began, two men masked in black leaped down into the audience area, grabbed her husband by the arms, and forcibly dragged him up onto the stage. Once onstage, Hans was dressed in a costume and made up, and before he knew it, he had become a character in the play. At least two times during the course of the play, she clearly saw her husband joining other characters who together pulled the ropes. He seemed to be enjoying himself. But when the play was over, Hans never returned to his seat in the audience. The wife waited for two hours, then went to the dressing room, but the members of the company had already returned to the hotel. That night, Hans failed to come home. After two more nights, he still hadn’t returned. By then, the company had left Holland and moved on to West Germany. She thought he had joined the company, that “they hired Hans for his acting skill.” She thought, “My husband is in the play.” Now. after three years had passed, she was pleading with me, “Please give me back my husband.” I had to tell her that I had never heard this story before. Neither I nor anyone in the company knew a middle-aged Dutchman named Hans Buruma. There was no evidence indicating that such a person had been with us during the past three years. When I told her that I didn’t know him, she was on the verge of tears. “Then where is Hans?” she asked. Three years ago–one middle-aged male post-office delivery worker evaporated into our play. In this case, we cannot distinguish where the drama ends and reality begins.”

— Shuji Terayama, The Labyrinth and the Dead Sea: My Theatre, translated by Carol Sorgenfried in Unspeakable Acts: The Avant-Garde Theatre of Terayama Shuji

sashayed

Dear —

I am not land or timber nor are you ocean or celestial body, but rather we are the small animals we have always been. The land and the sea know each other at the threshold where they meet, as we know something of one another, having shown, at different times, some bit of flesh, some feeling. We call the showing knowing instead of practice. We seem to say, at different times, A feeling comes. What is the metaphor for two animals sharing the same space? Marriage? We share a practice, you and I, a series of postures. Here is how I become a tree [ ] and you [ ] a body in space.

Donika Kelly (b. 1983) in Poetry, September 2018

#donika kelly #words

foone

I accidentally glitched out an animation I was working on and created a perfect example of what the passage of time feels like to someone with ADHD

charl0ttan

huge fan of the depth of a good purple but another area that draws me is definitely around aquamarine/turquoise/seafoam. you can not go wrong once the green starts getting just a tinge more blue. a gal could certainly do worse than to pull over there and stay a while

charl0ttan

something earth shattering going on here