[lostpetcity]

☀

[girlrust]

happy pride to my favorite gif in the world

[beroebluejeans]

There is a quality of books (or movies or shows) that I can best describe as “stickiness,” which is separate from being good or even enjoyable: a sticky book is one I just keep thinking about. Sometimes it’s because a book is very good (e.g. The Locked Tomb), and sometimes it’s because a book is very bad (e.g. ACOTAR), but there are also very good and very bad books that are slippery, such that when I’m done reading them they slip from my thoughts like water from a hydrophobic surface.

[lostpetcity]

☀

[lostpetcity]

nobody does late spring/early summer music like them. perfect soundtrack for first summer days in may my girlssss<3

[poetrylesbian]

good news everyone

[iconsfm]

jumper pngs!

(feel free to use but a like or reblog is always appreciated)

[iamheavymeta-lll]

[2productive]

[patrickredactedbrewer]

The fact that there is no source on this hurts my research brain.

From "Research As Leisure Activity" by Celine Nguyen, written for Nguyen's Substack Personal Canon

[night-the-starfish]

Hunter and prey, markers on paper.

[positivelyqueer]

[ID: traditional marker illustration of grey heron with background of swimming minnows. Minnows are green brown. Where they intersect with body of heron, they become simplistic and white with blue outlines. /end ID]

[dykecinema]

I can be trusted to be normal about receiving positive attention from older women

[that-butch-archivist]

source: That's Ms. Bulldyke to You, Charlie! by Jane Caminos

[metamorphesque]

musings on april

Sylvia Plath (Leon Dabo), Edna St. Vincent Millay, E. E. Cummings, Naguib Mahfouz (Edgar Degas), E. E. Cummings (Édouard Manet), Rabindranath Tagore, T. S. Eliot (Edgar Degas), F. Scott Fitzgerald (Alphonse Osbert)

[havingapoemwithyou]

Daylight Savings by Grace Q. Song

[dendrochronologies]

losing my mind over on summer crushing, by hanif abdurraqib

[lunchboxpoems]

[sunrisetune]

'Light Ghazal', by Hala Alyan

I’m terrible at parties, secrets, and money. I want my stars sexy: fast light that’s prophetic. No nonsense about physics, refraction, past light.

Even in Barcelona, I can’t turn a bike. I let you change my mind: free will and wet hair. One night, I let you pour white wine. I drink its aghast light.

Happy now? We’re both like this—full of risk and nowhere to put it. We sidle up to strangers with dry cigarettes and ask, Light?

I want small churches and noisy continents. I want you. I want you better. I want you moved by what moves me: God, glass, light.

You like the line about men bored with beautiful women, as though boredom’s the prize, as though those peonies weren’t a gaslight.

It’s O.K. I play dumb. I count codes under my breath. I circle you like a devoted planet. I see the whiskey bottle. I forecast light.

I’m a better gambler than wife: the house fills with music and your singing. Dear enabler. Dear truce. I know you see the moon’s steadfast light.

I know you remember Madrid, Istanbul, pinecones, that trip to Iceland. How every midnight had a sun. How we clung to its last light.

[dappledwithshadow]

Riverbank in Springtime, Vincent van Gogh

1887

[kosmogrl]

happy first day of spring!! we made it through another winter