Babes In The Woods

Southern Gothic

[anarchist-rat-swarm]

In case you don't know, churches in the US are required to remain non-political in order to keep their tax exempt status. You can fill out a Form 13909 with the IRS to file a complaint about a church or other tax exempt organization that violates these kinds of rules.

Ya know, if you ever wanted to send the IRS after Christofascist churches. It's safer than arson.

[swankyangles]

Aaaaand here's a direct link to the PDF!

[swankyangles]

AAAAAND HERES AN excellent article about exactly what they have to do or say to lose their tax-exempt status. This covers more than endorsement or electioneering.

IRS regulations prohibit 501(c)(3) public charities from specific types of activities and require certain levels of reporting and public dis

[lisaaolivia]

strangers, ethel cain / bones and all (2022) dir. luca guadagnino

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Time goes faster the older you get. Makes sense, I guess. A day becomes a smaller and smaller fraction of your life.”

― Camille DeAngelis, Bones & All

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Obscure southern sorrows from my childhood

Cicadas

Shadows of horses along the dirt road as you find your way home in the dark

The drone of the preacher during church sermon

Grass stained shorts

Stumbling upon the polite boy from class doing what he shouldn’t in the shack behind the lake

Natty Daddy

Imagining angels along the telephone poles

Sugar Cookies

Screen doors slamming

Bandaging bloody knees

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Anaïs Nin, “The Veiled Woman from Delta of Venus.”

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“...as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn't touch.”

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“Out west everything has its own space. Every little ramshackle cabin, shack, hut sits perched atop its own little piece of destiny with room to breathe, room to live, room to die. You'll see them, the dead ones, sitting by the side of the road like some faded gray and rotting mystery, thinking about the good ol days before trains and cars and wanting more.” ― Andrea Portes, Hick

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If I caught an elfling pilfering through my hedges I’d sneakily leave little glass vases for him to put his findings in

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This evokes in me the calm like the sweet smell of dead hay wafting through your hair on an open plain

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“Watch children..” A voice tinkled around my ears. Disorienting me along the trail. I stopped, waited, listened… peering into the mist between the trees. I turned tail and ran the other way.

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I have a boy I gift roses to from my garden bush, he dries them on his altar.