not all heroes wear capes
link her donation page
Ll
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

Kaledo Art
$LAYYYTER
i don't do bad sauce passes
sheepfilms
Show & Tell
dirt enthusiast
we're not kids anymore.

shark vs the universe
d e v o n

Product Placement
h
🪼
KIROKAZE
No title available
wallacepolsom
trying on a metaphor
occasionally subtle

pixel skylines
styofa doing anything
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Canada
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Brazil

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Canada

seen from New Zealand

seen from Malaysia
@excynic
not all heroes wear capes
link her donation page
Ll
Kai Wheeler (Tumblr, Youtube, Website)
4 Body Weight Burn Exercises
[Don’t delete the links please]
Trying
Reblogging for reference!
I’m just excited bc I never see these gif sets with black people
^^^^ This comment is why I love making the gifs I make.
Miranda July reads Janet Frame
I cannot quite articulate why I keep coming back to this piece, Gnossienne No. 1 (Lent), by Erik Satie. Describing it as hauntingly beautiful or mysterious would be technically true, I suppose, but it'd also be an utter cliche that doesn't even begin to describe the worlds to which I am transported the second the first notes start playing.
Capitalism is all the time in crisis, this is precisely why it appears almost indestructible. Crisis is not its obstacle, it's what pushes it forwards towards permanent self-revolutionizing, permanent extended self-reproduction, always new products. The other side of it (capitalism) is waste.
The sparse electronic composition melds so beautifully with the crisp, pure vocals
You've seen it all and all you have seen
You can always review on your own little screen
The light and the dark, the big and the small
Just keep in mind - you need no more at all
You've seen what you were and know what you'll be
You've seen it all - there is no more to see!
Disillusionment never sounded this crushingly beautiful before. The incomparable Bjork and Thom Yorke from Lars von Trier's masterpiece: "Dancer in The Dark"
A man has to construct, invent his freedom. Immigration helps
Bernard Malamud, the prominent American Jewish novelist of the 20th century.
RIP Dorothy Parker.
Both Sides Now
Bows and flows of angel hair And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere I've looked at clouds that way But now they only block the sun They rain and snow on everyone So many things I would have done But clouds got in my way I've looked at clouds from both sides now From up and down, and still somehow It's cloud illusions I recall I really don't know clouds at all Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels The dizzy dancing way you feel As every fairy tale comes real I've looked at love that way But now it's just another show You leave 'em laughing when you go And if you care, don't let them know Don't give yourself away I've looked at love from both sides now From give and take, and still somehow It's love's illusions I recall I really don't know love at all Tears and fears and feeling proud To say "I love you" right out loud Dreams and schemes and circus crowds I've looked at life that way Oh but now old friends are acting strange They shake their heads, they say I've changed Well something's lost but something's gained In living every day I've looked at life from both sides now From WIN and LOSE and still somehow It's life's illusions I recall I really don't know life at all I've looked at life from both sides now From up and down and still somehow It's life's illusions I recall I really don't know life at all
Joni Mitchell
THE AFTERLIFE - Billy Collins
While you are preparing for sleep, brushing your teeth,
or riffling through a magazine in bed,
the dead of the day are setting out on their journey.
They're moving off in all imaginable directions,
each according to his own private belief,
and this is the secret that silent Lazarus would not reveal:
that everyone is right, as it turns out.
you go to the place you always thought you would go,
The place you kept lit in an alcove in your head.
Some are being shot into a funnel of flashing colors
into a zone of light, white as a January sun.
Others are standing naked before a forbidding judge who sits
with a golden ladder on one side, a coal chute on the other.
Some have already joined the celestial choir
and are singing as if they have been doing this forever,
while the less inventive find themselves stuck
in a big air conditioned room full of food and chorus girls.
Some are approaching the apartment of the female God,
a woman in her forties with short wiry hair
and glasses hanging from her neck by a string.
With one eye she regards the dead through a hole in her door.
There are those who are squeezing into the bodies
of animals--eagles and leopards--and one trying on
the skin of a monkey like a tight suit,
ready to begin another life in a more simple key,
while others float off into some benign vagueness,
little units of energy heading for the ultimate elsewhere.
There are even a few classicists being led to an underworld
by a mythological creature with a beard and hooves.
He will bring them to the mouth of the furious cave
guarded over by Edith Hamilton and her three-headed dog.
The rest just lie on their backs in their coffins
wishing they could return so they could learn Italian
or see the pyramids, or play some golf in a light rain.
They wish they could wake in the morning like you
and stand at a window examining the winter trees,
every branch traced with the ghost writing of snow.
" He had a smile that made you realize that some skulls contained an entire power plant set up in miniature inside, and the heat and the electricity spilled their voltage through the teeth and the eyes."
Lorrie Morre, from her novel; "A gate at the stairs"
Excerpt from David Rakoff's only novel; "Love, Dishonor, Marry, Die, Cherish, Perish"
It was sadness that gripped him, far more than the fear
That, if facing the truth, he had maybe a year.
When poetic phrases like “eyes, look your last”
Become true, all you want is to stay, to hold fast.
A new, fierce attachment to all of this world
Now pierced him, it stabbed like a deity-hurled
Lightning bolt lancing him, sent from above.
Left him giddy and tearful. It felt like young love.
He’d thought of himself as uniquely proficient
At seeing, but now that sense felt insufficient.
He wanted to grab, to possess, to devour
To eat with his eyes, how he needed that power.
Just like a child whose big gun is a stick,
Cliff was now harmless. He's gotten too sick
To take any action beyond rudimentary
Routines as a trunk to the most elementary
Which pill to take now? And where is your sweater?
Did the Imodium make you feel better?
Study your shit to make sure you'd not bled.
Make sure the Kleenex is next to the bed.
Make sure, be prepared, plan out every endeavor,
Like a scout on the stupidest camping trip ever.
The facts were now harder, reality colder,
His parasol no match for this falling boulder
And so the concern with trivial issues,
Slippers nearby, and approximate tissues.
He thought of those two things in life that don't vary,
Well, though only glancingly, more was too scary.
Inevitable, why even bother to test it?
He'd paid all his taxes, so that left
You guessed it.
"If [Before] Sunrise was about the euphoria of instant attraction, and [Before] Sunset was about the bittersweet allure of reigniting the flame, [Before] Midnight is about the tough, exasperating business of keeping a relationship alive. Interrogating the romantic notions of its predecessors, the film dares to ask what happens when the thrill of finding a soul mate wears off, and what’s left are the complications—of work, of middle age, of parenthood. In other words, those expecting another enchanted evening should brace for the epic showdown in Midnight’s thorny second half."
-A.A. Dowd's review in the A.V. Club of the third installment of Linklater's fascinating relationship study; "Before Midnight"
An interesting webseries "High Maintenance" that follows a pot delivery man in New York City as he zigzags through the humming city and the lives of its weary inhabitants. Ben Sinclair, co-creator and executive producer, is amazing as the hard-to-read, nameless delivery man.