Claire Keane
art blog(derogatory)
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PR's Tumblrdome
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TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
Interview Vampire Daily
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
EXPECTATIONS
Origami Around
#extradirty
Cosimo Galluzzi
shark vs the universe
tannertan36
One Nice Bug Per Day
Product Placement
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untitled
noise dept.
blake kathryn
seen from Germany
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seen from Germany
seen from Morocco
seen from Germany
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seen from Norway
seen from Iraq
seen from Pakistan
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Mexico
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@icaruslovedapollo
Somewhere between the mythical realms of "hot take" and "cold take" lives the long sought-after land of balance, otherwise known as a "nuanced, informed, and original opinion". Many have perished or been otherwise lost to the wastes of unoriginality or pseudoscience over the years in their often fruitless search for this utopic land of respectful, well-reasoned debate.
(very softly, as if waiting for permission from the world) i think, maybe, i am healing?
Another banger from /r/stupiddovenests - at least the tag is appropriate this time
@letsblogwithmama
let's nest in the dinosaur skull with mama
let's nest in great-great-great-grandmas mouth with mama
Google Searches on a Day That Wasn't Important a Few Years Ago
Tw for grief
i know that by this point there's so many dead friend poems that it's a saturated genre but god do all of them still mean so much to me. i am still serious about you and staying alive. i won't write your obituary. we do have enough dead friends. come over. we still laugh at Only the Good Die Young.
i'm not scared of thunder and waves don't seen like threats and fire has always seemed more beautiful than terrifying but there's something I can't quite grasp about the wind in the winter. it carries with it a specific loneliness and the return of the pain in my joints and the crunch of the ground under the soles of shoes that no longer protect from the cold and it makes you understand why we have so many stories about the old and wild and unknown things that come with the cold and the dark and the howling wind.
I hear the first notes of Abstract(Psychopomp) and I am immediately transformed into an animal who has just been hit by a car on a rainy night being comforted by a human as I am dying and approximately 4:03 minutes later I am fine
friendly reminder that it's ok to take breaks and just check out of the constant flow of news and the problems in the world. if you're normally really on top of it, and you keep updated, and you have a heart at all, you're probably overwhelmed and catastrophizing. take. breaks. watch a crappy tv show and laugh out loud to every predictable joke. fail at a new kind of art and hang it up on the wall regardless. hug your friends. finally coax the neighborhood cat close enough to pet. find a copycat recipe for a sweet treat you love. buy yourself flowers for once. read the entire wikipedia article on the most obscure topic you can find. throw darts at a photo of donald trump. read an entire book in one sitting. whatever is gonna make you happy, do it. don't feel guilty for doing it. you deserve it and you need it. hope is a precious thing these days. hug your friends.
i know i'm not the first person to say this and i won't be the last but there's something so intrinsically human in staring up at the moon. she's always been there, she'll be there as long as it matters, and she's always been the same. every human to ever lose track of time with their head tilted towards the night sky has traced their eyes over the same craters, found the same patterns, felt the same urge to tell stories about her, to make art. even now, her mystery beginning to unravel, her myths proven myth, footprints imprinted on her, preserved until the end of time, we still stare. we still tell stories. we still make art about her. i hope we never change.
despite it all i do think things are gonna get better. i promise you're not the only one who cares about it all. hold on to hope, it will serve you well. hug your friends.
i know sometimes it feels like nothing changes and you convince yourself that nothing ever gets better but over the past few years i've been forced to realize that life actually does get better. people do care. time passes and the bad things are temporary. a few years ago i was convinced i was alone and unworthy and unloved. i realized a few months ago that death is scary again. one of my friends said he missed me and i realized that people do care. in a few weeks i'm going to be a year clean. on that same day i'm going to be at his house, with a new group of people who actually feel like friends. we're gonna watch movies and eat cookies and give eachother presents and i'm going to remember that there is so much worth living for. anyways. the world has some shit parts and people suck sometimes but god if there aren't also so many good things. there are sunrises and good food and funny jokes and people to chase sunrises with and make good food with and laugh with. it will get better. it does get better.
To anyone who related to this a tad too much, please remember that you are loved. You can get the care you need and the bad things will pass. It gets better <3
does the sea mimic the sky out of reverence or rivalry? do the brilliant blues of clear days come from each trying to outdo eachother? do they blend together at the horizon on bad days, fighting, intermingled, each scrambling for the upper hand, creating storms and hurricanes from their jealousy? or on good days does the sea stare up at the sky it can only ever pretend to touch and drape it's color across the surface of the waves in worship? does it do the same even on the bad days, wishing again to touch the sky, leaving only us, the unbiased and uninvolved observer, to lose track of the horizon, the border between the two, unable to see the differences between the sea and the sky and unable to tell the sea that her love is not futile? also they're lesbians send post
to the children who are scared: we never stop playing pretend
i dunno there's something about the darkness that brings out the truer sides of us because it's two in the morning and I watched the sun set today and now the words won't stop falling from my lips and I'm scared i'll tell the universe I love it and it won't answer in kind
i think as long as there are humans there will always be poets and poetry because written and spoken poetry are just a humans flimsy yet persistent attempts to capture the poetry that sings through the heart of the natural world in birdsong and wind on the water and the sun in the trees
i'm not religious and I don't usually believe in magic but there's some things that I swear must have another layer to them, something beyond what meets the eye. like how the ocean tastes like tears and sweat and reflects the color of the sky. or how a baby's hand fits perfectly around your pinky finger. or how every single culture on earth is tied together through art and music. we all sing. we all write. we all stare at the moon and the stars and the patterns in the clouds. the most common signs of aging is our eyes crinkling at the corners from smiling too much. the sound of water rushing in a creek is calming in the same way as hearing someone else breathing. every human invention is a result of someone having a little more hope than those around them. anyways. the line between faith and hope is blurred to irrelvance and it's a grey area I love to indulge in.
