What? Nooo @gstarbob - Tumblr Blog

joan-deactivated20230204

nobody on this site is ever ever EVER going to top running a blog dedicated entirely to posting cute pics of sweet old dogs in a shelter for a year and gradually becoming one of the most recognized blogs on the website, then without warning dropping “i just want to get dicked down again =/” with 0 explanation and abandoning the blog. not deleting it, not explaining anything, just leaving the whole thing as a monument. fucking flawless posting. literally the best of all time.

old-friends-senior-dog-sanctuary

I just want to get dicked down again =/

hitokouji

chickenfarmersan

yougottabeniceforwhat

desiccantdonoteat

needlepointcursewords

tiktoksthataregood-ish

homofied

drowsydrunk

“For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. We love only the person we can eat. The person we hate we ‘can’t swallow.’ That one makes us vomit. Even our friends are inedible. If we were asked to dig into our friend’s flesh we would be disgusted. The person we love we dream only of eating. That is, we slide down that razor’s edge of ambivalence. The story of torment itself is a very beautiful one. Because loving is wanting and being able to eat up and yet to stop at the boundary. And there, at the tiniest beat between springing and stopping, in rushes fear. The spring is already in mid-air. The heart stops. The heart takes off again. Everything in love is oriented towards this absorption. At the same time real love is a don’t-touch, yet still an almost-touching. Tact itself: a phantom touching. Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up. Fear of eating, fear of the edible, fear on the part of the one of them who feels loved, desired, who wants to be loved, desired, who desires to be desired, who knows there is no greater proof of love than the other’s appetite, who is dying to be eaten up, who says or doesn’t say, but who signifies: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me. Sign my death with your teeth.”

— Helene Cixous, “The Love of the Wolf” (via ophclia)