Drain all of my blood and refill my veins with only this video
Peter Solarz
đȘŒ
cherry valley forever
Cosimo Galluzzi
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
AnasAbdin
Jules of Nature

blake kathryn

titsay
Monterey Bay Aquarium
we're not kids anymore.
trying on a metaphor
noise dept.

No title available
I'd rather be in outer space đž
i don't do bad sauce passes

#extradirty
h

romaâ
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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@dustspeck742
Drain all of my blood and refill my veins with only this video
This Doonesbury abortion cartoon was originally written by Gary Trudeau in 2012, in response to a Texas law requiring women to have an ultrasound before an abortion. It was banned from many major newspapers, and they ran syndicated cartoons in its place.
Now seems like an appropriate time to bring these cartoons back, with the passing of Texasâ new law requiring the burial or cremation of miscarried or aborted fetal remains. I guess weâll have to wait and see if Trudeau decides to write the sequel.
(Source)
i chose to sever my connection with the divine by drinking diet coke
who wanna come over and have floor time
iâm on that weird shit. iâm jacking odd. disturbating. creeping my meat
*scared* whatâs gonna happen on june tenth
Fixed it.
honestly one of the all time tweets of all time tbh
via @swatercolor [insta]
This is the best tag I've ever received on a post, I think
> The Stalker says he can take me to the Zone
> I ask if the Zone is creepy or wet
> He doesn't understand
> I light a cigarette and make my speech about what constitutes something being creepy or wet
> He does not laugh and says "The Zone demands respect"
> it's creepy AND wet
There should be more types of ovation. Spinning, prone, supplicating. We have barely scratched the surface of ovation techniques.
things in this world that kick ass
1.
âSubvertingâ Catholic art? Oh, okay. I see, you think this has nothing to do with you. You log onto the internet and you post about how âWound of Christâ from Psalter and Prayer Book of Bonne de Luxembourg, attributed to Jean le Noir, c.1349, for instance, looks like a vulva because you're trying to tell the world that you enjoy Catholic art and imagery in an alternative, queer, risquĂ© way that challenges Christian beliefs. But what you don't know is that that stigma isnât just a vulva. It's not just a mandorla. It's not just yonic. It's actually intentionally erotic. And you're also blithely unaware of the fact that around 1297, Saint Angela of Foligno experienced a vision of Christ himself, who called her to put her mouth to the wound in his side and lick the freshly flowing blood. And then I think it was Saint Catherine of Siena who drank blood and a clear liquid from the wound before receiving a ring made from Christâs foreskin? And then graphically erotic encounters with the side wound of Christ quickly showed up in the writings of eight different mystics. And then the yonic interpretation of the stigmata filtered down through the illuminated manuscripts and then trickled on down into some pseudo-intellectual corner of the internetâŠwhere you, no doubt, fished it out of some Pinterest board. However, that interpretation represents hundreds of years and countless visions of religious ecstasy. And it's sort of comical how you think that you've come up with an idea that exempts you from Christian theology when, in factâŠyou're posting an image that was sexualized for you by the very Medieval saints you think youâre so different thanâŠfrom âsubvertedâ Catholic art.
truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if sheâs sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if sheâs perhaps worried sheâs a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and thatâs enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said sheâs here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then sheâll make another one. I said âisnât it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?â and she just looked at me funny and said âwhat do you mean? The whole world was here, waitingâ. Some people, I tell you.