梨園

Rien Mikael / faggot / nor / xxix GRAB AN END , PULL HARD , AND MAKE A WISH

[theyvcreation-deactivated202401]

[zanephillips]

Chop Suey (2001) dir. Bruce Weber

[soracities]

Zbigniew Herbert, from "Daedalus and Icarus", The Collected Poems: 1956-1998 (trans. Alissa Valles) [ID'd]

[derangedrhythms]

There’s something terrible about the way [...] that summer insists on happening.

David Szalay, Flesh

[funeral]

Chefetz and Bromberg, “Talking With ‘Me’ and ‘Not-Me’”

[atramentumnoctis]

getting older and weirder and sexier and more perverted and gluttonous and intelligent and blunt and eloquent and spontaneous and skilled is literally what it's all about

[apoherm-deactivated20231020]

The Dead Icarus, Paul-Ambroise Slodtz (1743) Marble, Musée du Louvre, Paris

[apocryphics]

[derangedrhythms]

The summer sun ray shifts through a suspicious tree. though I walk through the valley of the shadow It sucks the air and looks around for me.

The grass speaks. I hear green chanting all day. I will fear no evil, fear no evil The blades extend and reach my way.

The sky breaks. It sags and breathes upon my face. in the presence of mine enemies, mine enemies The world is full of enemies. There is no safe place.

Anne Sexton, To Bedlam and Part Way Back; Noon Walk On The Asylum Lawn

[newloverofbeauty]

Bruce Weber: Sir Ian McKellan and friend

[cocainejuul]

An absence so heavy it becomes a presence

[literaturereads]

"And Cain says, “When you split me and my brother in the womb, you did not divide us evenly. He got kindness, and I got longing. He got complacence, and I got ambition. I want to kill him sometimes. I think sometimes he wants to die.”

- Nathaniel Orion, "Hevel"

[saintsebastiensbf]

[derangedrhythms]

Fierce, seraphic, savage-eyed,

Charles Baudelaire, Complete Poems: Spleen et Idéal from 'The Living Dead', tr. Walter Martin

[pmamtraveller]

Double-Sided Votive Relief, Egypt, Greco-Roman period (332 BCE–395 CE), Ptolemaic dynasty

[freudarchives]

Gail Crowther, Three-Martini Afternoons at the Ritz: The Rebellion of Sylvia Plath & Anne Sexton

[funeral]

He looks everywhere for the right words—the right words to describe everything, to define everything, and to know everything. When he struggles to find what he's after, he continues to look for more words. He invents more words. He speaks them louder and louder. Soon, he yells. Then he screams. The screams only echo, returning to him with no new insights. They're still just his words. They teach him nothing. In between his screams and their echoes, he experiences silence. This is when, if he listens, he finds what he is after.

Robert Pantano, The Terrible Paradox of Self-Awareness