The speed of jazz music, 1950s-60s Francine Winham

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styofa doing anything
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Xuebing Du

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Kaledo Art

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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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Love Begins
KIROKAZE

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Origami Around
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YOU ARE THE REASON
Three Goblin Art
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The speed of jazz music, 1950s-60s Francine Winham
IWTV S2 Set Details: San Francisco Apartment
a v happy boy :)))))))
“Lemonade” poetry bits
Intuition
I tried to make a home outta you. But doors lead to trapdoors. A stairway leads to nothing. Unknown women wander the hallways at night. Where do you go when you go quiet? You remind me of my father, a magician. Able to exist in two places at once. In the tradition of men in my blood you come home at 3AM and lie to me. What are you hiding? The past, and the future merge to meet us here. What luck. What a fucking curse.
Denial
I tried to change. Closed my mouth more. Tried to be soft, prettier. Less…awake.
Fasted for 60 days. Wore white. Abstained from mirrors. Abstained from sex. Slowly did not speak another word.
In that time my hair grew past my ankles. I slept on a mat on the floor. I swallowed a sword. I levitated… into the basement, I confessed my sins and was baptized in a river. Got on my knees and said, “Amen.” And said I mean. I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. I threw myself into a volcano. I drank the blood and drank the wine. I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God. I crossed myself and thought… I saw the devil. I grew thickened skin on my feet. I bathed…in bleach and plugged my menses with pages from the Holy Book. But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know. Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?
Anger
If this what you truly want. I can wear her skin…over mine. Her hair, over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph. All three of us, immortalized. You and your perfect girl.
I don’t know when love became elusive. What I know is no one I know has it. My father’s arms around my mother’s neck. Fruit too ripe to eat.
I think of lovers as trees… …growing to and from one another. Searching for the same light. Why can’t you see me? Why can’t you see me? (Why can’t you) Why can’t you see me? Everyone else can.
Apathy
So what are you gonna say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me? Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted, most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness. Her God was listening. Her heaven would be a love without betrayal. Ashes to ashes…dust to side chicks.
Emptiness
She sleeps all day…dreams of you in both worlds.
Tills the blood in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc. Grief, sedated by orgasm. Orgasm heightened by grief. God was in the room when the man said to the woman, “I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me and pull me in, pull me in, pull me in.” Sometimes when he’d have her nipple in his mouth, she’d whisper, “Oh my God.” That, too, is a form of worship. Her hips grind pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves, whenever he pulls out.
Loss. Dear moon, we blame you for floods…for the flush of blood…for men who are also wolves. We blame you for the night, for the dark, for the ghosts.
Every fear… Every nightmare…anyone has ever had.
Accountability
You find the black tube inside her beauty case. Where she keeps your father’s old prison letters. You desperately want to look like her. You look nothing like your mother. You look everything like your mother. Film star, beauty. How to wear your mother’s lipstick. You go to the bathroom to apply the lipstick. Somewhere no one can find you. You must wear it like she wears disappointment on her face. Your mother is a woman. And women like her can not be contained.
Mother dearest, let me inherit the Earth. Teach me how to make him beg. Let me make up for the years he made you wait. Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name? Did he convince you he was a God? Did you get on your knees daily? Do his eyes close like doors? Are you a slave to the back of his head? Am I talking about your husband or your father?
Reformation
He bathes me… …until I forget their names…and faces. I ask him to look me in the eye when I come…home. Why do you deny yourself heaven? Why do you consider yourself undeserving? Why are you afraid of love? You think it’s not possible for someone like you. But you are the love of my life…love of my life…the love of my life…the love of my life.
Forgiveness
Baptize me… …now that reconciliation is possible. If we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious. One thousand girls raise their arms.
Do you remember being born?
Are you thankful? Are the hips that cracked… …the deep velvet of your mother… …and her mother… …and her mother? There is a curse that will be broken.
Resurrection
You are terrifying… …and strange… …and beautiful.
Hope
The nail technician pushes my cuticles back… …turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm and says: “I see your daughters, and their daughters.” That night in a dream the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach. The scar heals into a smile. The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails. We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath. I wake as the second girl crawls headfirst up my throat. A flower blossoming out of the hole in my face.
Redemption
Take one pint of water, add a half pound of sugar, the juice of eight lemons… …the zest of half lemon. Pour the water from one jug, then into the other, several times. Strain through a clean napkin.
Grandmother, the alchemist. You spun gold out of this hard life. Conjured beauty from the things left behind. Found healing where it did not live. Discovered the antidote in your own kitchen. Broke the curse with your own two hands. You passed these instructions down to your daughter. Who then passed it down to her daughter.
My grandma said, nothing real can be threatened. True love brought salvation back into me. With every tear came redemption. And my torturer became my remedy.
So we’re gonna heal, we’re gonna start again. You’ve brought the orchestra. Synchronized swimmers, you are the magician. Pull me back together again the way you cut me in half. Make the woman in doubt disappear. Pull the sorrow from between my legs like silk, knot after knot after knot. The audience applauds… …but we can’t hear them.
Warsan Shire
omg hiiii tumblr
Suspiria (2018) Dir. Luca Guadagnino
Nicholas Kalmakoff is probably my favorite artist
i wrote an article discussing my interpretation of ethel cain’s newest project “perverts,” its place in the cultural landscape, and its potential to shift how the public absorbs art.
please read and support ethel cain!
@mothercain @mothercain @mothercain your input would be so appreciated here, tell me what i got wrong and what i got right, and i’m so excited for your next project!
Hayden Silas Anhedönia is, at her core, an artist concerned with the danger of art.
some quick drawings of little Soos I made a while ago
I was checking on someone from Gaza and I asked them "how's the condition of the tent?" a question that really, really stung.
As Palestinians, whether or not we experienced living in tents and refugee camps first hand, tents have been a symbol of our initial displacement in 1948.
Finding myself asking this question to a Palestinian 76 years later really struck me.
Israel is a settler colonial entity, intent on disappearing Palestinians through massacres and displacement to make way for its expansionist project.
The fact that this is a question we are still having to ask is beyond heart-wrenching, but it also tells me that try as they might, we are rooted in this land and Israel's attempts have never deterred us.
Despite how painful this is, the least we can do is actually ensure that these tents are adequate enough to withstand upcoming winter conditions as it approaches.
Siraj is looking to raise funds to secure an adequate living space for his family this winter. He's currently only $842 away from reaching the target and you can donate here.
And for families who aren't fundraising, the Sameer Project team is currently working to provide tents to displaced Palestinians in Gaza. You can donate to them via Chuffed / Venmo / PayPal. Just make sure you leave a note "tent" to specify which project you're donating to.
What is this? A crossover episode???
Cringe but free
We back at the falls
starparkdesigns (2023)
[ID: An illustration of two cows standing in a field, with their faces pressed together. One of them says to the other, "Promise me not to hide yourself when you're in pain, it's unfair that we laughed together but you cried alone". End ID.]