astrea ataraxia

here to be swallowed up

[currentlycryingaboutlancelot]

dostoyesvky can be misogynistic at times but I do appreciate that he’ll often be like “she was the sickliest looking woman anyone had ever seen. she was pale with sunken miserable eyes and a face that had suffered. she was insane and manic and spoke of horrible things. everyone was so in love with her that they wanted to throw themselves off a building”

[wtiom]

hey sorry your boyfriend said that russian classics are about that life is bleak. yeah he meant dostoyevsky and tolstoy. no, he didn't look beyond any of the lowest lows of the stories. he didn't even see the overarching themes of beauty and hope and connection. frankly we have all been laughing about him and we're gonna beat him up now. sorry

[astraeaataraxia]

they painted our house blue

not as blue as the nun's habit

when she stood behind us royally

skirts aswish at safeway

when all three of us knew without speaking

that the woman in front of us couldn't pay

do the people who live here know to grow rainbow chard on the balcony

open the french doors to the rain

lie down in a butterbeam and wait for the cops to come in

are they leaving at midnight with backpacks full of applesauce

crisscrossing the city until they can sleep

smirking and scowling while the tv floods the living room

unmoors and upheaves and afloats their belongings

do they have ten thousand syrup sticky dishes and unsleeved records

and basketball cards and oligarchy nesting dolls and a marble table they can't pick up

are they incensed to be peered at and spied on

accosting their neighbors while brushing their teeth

blessed in the rose thicket

anointed in the cracker aisle

bereft on the sofa, lost at sea

slipping their sega genesis games into all the dozen kitchen cupboards

sliding their dead uncle's unicycle under the bed

sacrificing cigarette butts and bottle caps to the syrian holy mother around the corner

or can other things happen in this house

- Clementine Foxglove

[cakebeef]

Out of the rain with your makeup in shambles, your dress clinging to every curve, you took three steps through the door without thinking.

“You don’t live here anymore,” I said, closing the book figuratively, then literally.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Yes,” I replied.

It was uncomfortable, I’m sure.

[red-ibis-red]

It is the shock I remember. Not only does something come if you wait, but it pours over you like a waterfall, like a tidal wave. You wait in all naturalness without expectation or hope, emptied, translucent, and that which comes rocks and topples you; it will shear, loose, launch, winnow, grind.

—Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living.

Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

[novlr]

“The secret is not to write about what you love best, but about what you, alone, love at all.” — Annie Dillard

[dct239394cvvd098dffgggp]

dear sketiana love doctor. I've been shooting my shot with a guy who I think I could love and I'm not getting rejected per se, but I'm not receiving the kind of love that I'm trying to give. is there a point at which I'm supposed to let go and if so, how do I know if I've reached it?

lovely role ive been given lool for what !

heed warning that i am a tumblr blog n ur real life decisions should always be based on at least 90% everything else and at most 10% whatever it is im saying. when you think youve had enough of not being for certain where you stand, ask him directly in a way that leaves you no choice but to either go further down that route if he says hes into you back the same way or grieve what coulda been and move on in a month or three instead of stringing yourself alone for something that might not pan out and regretting this limbo era down the road. prolly a good plan of going about it ? possibly. and how to know youve reached the point - when it stops mattering what the response will be and starts getting tiring to wonder. you cant really lie to yourself unless you want to . and wanting to lie to yourself js so you can stay in this a bit longer is a good indicator that youre not at the no return point yet.

[dct239394cvvd098dffgggp]

not killing yourself in the middle of a nostalgia bout is a form of prayer

[brutalistarchitecture2]

INTERVIEW by JORDAN KAPONO NAKAMURA

[broadlyaudrey-deactivated202106]

even when i am not posting, know that horrible sentences are raging within me

[dct239394cvvd098dffgggp]

fish have entered my life and made unsaved changes to my soul

[dct239394cvvd098dffgggp]

sunlit in sweetwater. dash of red. could cry what a beautiful being

[the-clapping-smiling-pig]

Tearing down the poster of jessica simpson my teenage son has taped to his wall and replacing it with a drawing I did of a stone worn smooth by the tides.

[dct239394cvvd098dffgggp]

wild that nothing at all of value is going on a planet over. hasnt ever been shit interesting going down on like neptune its all just us alone here bothering to do anything. the cold dead space outside all of it wants to know what we've got going on cause God knows nothing else is happening ways out there but light and heavy things bending it

[exitwound]

Ever since I was a little girl ive always wanted to open the emergency exit door

[thegleampt2fromtheglowpt22001]

born too late 2 be a pirate captain's whorish cabin boy. born too early to 2 be a post-apocalyptic warlords chained up lap boy. why live

[thegleampt2fromtheglowpt22001]

i kno where my talents lie

[poem-locker]

Phillip B. Williams, “Though My Wings are Broken, They Still Make Me Animal”

                     after Paul Celan

I sleep reeking musk of leopards in love. My home is an amazement of leaves. Their     shadows paint weapons against me. If they stir, I am impaled by green laughter.