Let Me Eat Your Brain @mesozoi - Tumblr Blog

primulaceas

The Doubling of Self: An Interview with Richard Siken by Peter Mishler

aqua-regia009

La venganza de Leda / Leda’s revenge by Emilia Castañeda

redlipstickresurrected

Bao Tran Trung (Vietnamese, based Saigon, Vietnam) - 1: Dreamer at Day 2: Insomniac at Night, 2021, Photography

seanika

lostwig

FKA twigs for Perk magazine (No. 34): Muses in Music and Fashion

‪— photography by Matthew Stone

earthboundstarblind-deactivated

William Eggleston

theleoisallinthemind

Amarachi Ironkwe by Fedor Bitkov

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russiansappho

Marlene Dietrich in Dishonored dir. Josef von Sternberg, 1931.

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I went to a bookshop and I got dizzy at the amount of books on stuff like “astrological feminism” “reclaiming womanhood through numerology” and all that shit…… One was called “cosmic fanny” or for my french speakers out there, “foufoune cosmique”. I think the fight against patriarchy is going really well

tepot

“But I didn’t and still don’t like making a cult of women’s knowledge, preening ourselves on knowing things men don’t know, women’s deep irrational wisdom, women’s instinctive knowledge of Nature, and so on. All that all too often merely reinforces the masculinist idea of women as primitive and inferior – women’s knowledge as elementary, primitive, always down below at the dark roots, while men get to cultivate and own the flowers and crops that come up into the light. But why should women keep talking baby talk while men get to grow up? Why should women feel blindly while men get to think?”

Ursula K Le Guin, from What Women Know

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One night we had a thrilling summer storm… We hadn’t been in the house long, and it was the first time in this house we’d had to close all the windows. In the morning I smelled gas, strong, unmistakable. “I smell gas,” I said to my husband. “I don’t smell it,” he said. He had a friend come over. “Why are you having a friend come over,” I asked, “when it doesn’t matter if he can smell it or not, and none of us can fix it?” His friend didn’t smell it, either. I called the gas company. The gas company employee didn’t smell it, either. He waved his reader around and it blasted off in three places, substantial leaks behind the stove and in the basement. “Always trust a woman’s nose,” the gas company employee said.

Yes, I thought, believe us.

Then, No, I thought, I’m not a fucking witch. Believe anyone who smells gas. If someone smells gas, believe them.

– Jane Dykema, What I Don’t Tell My Students About “The Husband Stitch”