ah rats

maria • twitter: @ecofriendlyrat

[saint-vagrant]

my sign for a protest a couple days ago. grateful to be there— and won't stop for nothin!

palestine will be free.

[regeminfernorum]

Charles Joseph Natoire. 1700-1777. Paris. Jupiter enlevant Ganymède.

[inkipri]

let it gush right in

[frogndtoad]

that night, frog and toad were both happy

[rslashrats]

have you seen the news that some rats took over a chipotle in new york

holy shit

[brucebocchi]

girls night

[lesbians-vintage]

cute ww2 lesbians getting tattoos?

[strawberry-balm-deactivated2020]

[blisslai-remade-deactivated2020]

i've tried writing this post twice now and i am literally incapable of putting it into words but like,,the way platonic love is so overwhelming and so powerful like it's Literally everywhere like my friends tagging me in dumb tiktoks that they think i'd like and spamming the comments of my posts saying nice things and fucking around in the drinks aisle of the supermarket with me and going to concerts for artists that they don't even like that much because i asked because they know we can still have fun together no matter where we are and falling back into the same patterns even though we haven't seen each other in 5 months and reading my favourite books because i keep mentioning them to them and watching terrible horror movies together because one of them said they liked it and texting me whenever they listen to a song i recommended to them and knowing my favourite flavour of the shitty drinks they sell in the school canteen and falling asleep together on facetime only to wake up at 3am and play minecraft and spending hours talking about what we want from the future and how we feel about kids and relationships and the thought of growing up and moving away but still talking about how we'd all go to each other's weddings despite none of us knowing what could happen in the future but that doesn't even matter because right now we all still have each other and yeah ok i could go years without being in a romantic relationship but i don't think it would matter because platonic bonds are so Good for us and so powerful and once you get over the fear of losing them literally nothing else matters

[inkskinned]

today i am thinking about what we leave behind. in the store, on all of the bath mats, someone has drawn a heart or left a handprint. in the pen aisle, each page of the test paper is covered in names and little drawings and fuck covid and over and over again - hello hello hello hi hello. on the street i live, three houses have perfect hopscotch lanes carefully transcribed with rules and everything - jump here! now do a spin! graffiti of a deer on the side of a building, names scrawled into setting concrete. initials carved into park bench seats. In the bathroom, in silver sharpie - i hope you’re okay out there. i love you, you’re beautiful, keep trying. geocached tubes of trinkets, jackets left out in case somebody needs it. a note on my windshield - closed your door it was a little open have a great day and stay safe! my friends and i, fully grown adults, build a sandcastle on the edge of the ocean. 

inside of returned schoolbooks. inside of little secret pockets. hi hello hello hello. what a beautiful calling. you and i are in different times, and will never meet, but here is the greeting i’d owe you. if you never get to see this person, what do you say? hello! i love you. be good out there. be safe.

[jueki]

Ritual 2000 ‘式日’ Directed by Hideaki Anno

[water-aesthetics]

greenish

[fudge-the-otter]

If you’re reading this please be nice to yourself today because you do matter

[rosabienfuerte]

love on earth [available on my shop]

[velvetmysoul]

[thyrell]

god avatar fucked so hard when they decided every animal was like. two animals

[cherrytwizzler]

when healing from a person.. you will have thoughts like “I loved them more than I loved anyone, I never knew I could love someone so much, I’ll never love someone that much again..”

It is important to realize that your ability to love that person didn’t come from them, it came from within you. You were always a lover, already someone who could love deeply. Just because they are gone doesn’t mean that goes away. They didn’t give you the capacity to love, they just gave you a place to express it. Don’t give someone else the credit for how hard you could love, that was you and it still is.

[195195119511951-deactivated2021]

In the first poetry workshop I ever took my professor said we could write about anything we wanted except for two things: our grandparents and our dogs. She said she had never read a good poem about a dog. I could only remember ever reading one poem about a dog before that point—a poem by Pablo Neruda, from which I only remembered the lines “We walked together on the shores of the sea/ In the lonely winter of Isla Negra.” Four years later I wrote a poem about how when I was a little girl I secretly baptized my dog in the bathtub because I was afraid she wouldn’t get into heaven. “Is this a good poem?” I wondered. The second poetry workshop, our professor made us put a bird in each one of our poems. I thought this was unbelievably stupid. This professor also hated when we wrote about hearts, she said no poet had ever written a good poem in which they mentioned a heart. I started collecting poems about hearts, first to spite her, but then because it became a habit I couldn’t break. The workshop after that, our professor would tell us the same story over and over about how his son had died during a blizzard. He would cry in front of us. He never told us we couldn’t write about anything, but I wrote a lot of poems about snow. At the end of the year he called me into his office and said, “looking at you, one wouldn’t think you’d be a very good writer” and I could feel all the pity inside of me curdling like milk. The fourth poetry workshop I ever took my professor made it clear that poets should not try to engage with popular culture. I noticed that the only poets he assigned were men. I wrote a poem about that scene in Grease 2 where a boy takes his girlfriend to a fallout shelter and tries to get her to have sex with him by tricking her into believing that nuclear war had begun. It was the first poem I ever published. The fifth poetry workshop I ever took our professor railed against the word blood. She thought that no poem should ever have the word “blood” in it, they were bloody enough already. She returned a draft of my poem with the word blood crossed out so hard the paper had torn. When I started teaching poetry workshops I promised myself I would never give my students any rules about what could or couldn’t be in their poems. They all wrote about basketball. I used to tally these poems when I’d go through the stack I had collected at the end of each class. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 poems about basketball. This was Indiana. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I told the class, “for the next assignment no one can write about basketball, please for the love of god choose another topic. Challenge yourselves.” Next time I collected their poems there was one student who had turned in another poem about basketball. I don’t know if he had been absent on the day I told them to choose another topic or if he had just done it to spite me. It’s the only student poem I can still really remember. At the time I wrote down the last lines of that poem in a notebook. “He threw the basketball and it came towards me like the sun”