@messiers - Tumblr Blog

inthemuckandthemire

in a past life i was a keysmith

namedvesta

via

dreamyvixen

whiting sterling co. flask c. 19th century

kafk-a

Francesca Woodman, Some Disordered Interior Geometries, 1981

redlipstickresurrected

Nicola Samorì (Italian, b. 1977, Forlì, Emilia-Romagna, Italy, based Bagnacavallo, Province of Ravenna, Italy) - The Approval Brick, 2025, Paintings: Oil on Trani Stone and Onyx

medicineforhorses

Haunted by Poe (2000)

haunted by poe is the new walking album. thanks @power-chords! i can't believe i've never heard of her before. she's the precursor in her creative production for caroline polachek and so many of the experimental pop artists.

and of course the incredible early 2000s sound. it's addictive. a little fiona apple in there too.

ainavisa

i feel sad for my us east coast mutuals experiencing wildfire air quality. on the west coast this has become a yearly thing & i'm afraid it will be for the east as well... kn95 masks, guys. don't exercise outside. that particulate matter is actually really fucked up and reaches the brain. our world is on fire. feels like hell, doesn't it?

what does "the emptiness at the heart of identity" mean to you? people are struggling with this & i am not at all. many people are going down the (imo) ugly drain of "an unstable sense of self" or "a weak sense of self" or even "narcissism." feels like therapy speak to explain away a deep fundamental human experience—

i've always been intrigued by this idea that there is a self or identity at all. certainly we all collect experiences and memories in this life, and we enjoy the things we enjoy and dislike the things we dislike without much thought. there are aspects of a "self" in that sense.

but what would you do in circumstances you've never imagined? how would you change if something incredible—good or bad—happened to you? what inside of you isn't moveable? anything?

#rambling

exhaled-spirals

« In its severe forms, depression paralyzes all of the otherwise vital forces that make us human, leaving instead a bleak, despairing, desperate, and deadened state. It is a barren, fatiguing, and agitated condition; one without hope or capacity; a world that is, as A. Alvarez has put it, “airless and without exits.” Life is bloodless, pulseless, and yet present enough to allow a suffocating horror and pain. All bearings are lost; all things are dark and drained of feeling. The slippage […] is first gradual, then utter. Thought, which is as pervasively affected by depression as mood, is morbid, confused, and stuporous. It is also vacillating, ruminative, indecisive, and self castigating. The body is bone weary; there is no will; nothing is that is not an effort, or all-consuming. Like an unstable gas, an irritable exhaustion seeps into every crevice of thought and action. »

— Kay Redfield Jamison, Night Falls Fast

#🪾

abelgloss

#this was iconic to young druggie me

lots of feelings about giving up today. something about the weekend—a concept that honestly means (almost¹) nothing to me—has me feeling forlorn. i don't want to write, i don't want to read, i dont want to go for a walk until nightfall (during which time i will be by then in a fouler mood), no—i don't want to watch a film on my list. i just want to kms. my period is late. if i could laugh, i would.

¹i'm still young enough to get a sense of fear that i'm missing out on something during the weekends, even though i'm literally retired to my life of leisure. where are my worthless peers at?

#also feel like i'm writing on the walls of a cave in the dark lately #without spell check #pmdd