baseball different from how i remember it
glad they added new maps to baseball
noise dept.
$LAYYYTER
todays bird
we're not kids anymore.

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tumblr dot com
ojovivo
Sade Olutola
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

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hello vonnie

oozey mess
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

izzy's playlists!
Misplaced Lens Cap
NASA

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@nagapdragon
baseball different from how i remember it
glad they added new maps to baseball
MY SHOW
The Vampire Lestat 3.01
+ honorable mention:
Some art about coffee and certainly nothing else
bro, i desperately need people to learn that romance is an actual, literal genre of fiction. if you do not like a complete focus on romance and only like romantic plotlines incorporated into various other plots - you do not like the romance genre and you are not interested in romance fiction. simple as that. and it's fine if you don't like it, but pretending like the entire genre doesn't exist and is actually all badly written fiction of other genres which is overly focused on romance is asinine. yet somehow continues being a sentiment i see all the time. romance fiction is not lacking in plot or over-concerned with romantic relationships - it's literally doing what it was designed to do: centers mostly or even exclusively around romance.
I know this is going to make me sound pretensions but I have to get it off my chest. I feel an unimaginable rage when someone posts a photo and is like "this picture looks like a renaissance painting lol" when the photo clearly has the lighting, colors and composition of a baroque or romantic painting. There are differences in these styles and those differences are important and labeling every "classical" looking painting as renaissance is annoying and upsetting to me. And anytime I come across one of those posts I have to put down my phone and go take a walk because they make me so mad
In case you're curious here's what I mean.
Renaissance(distinct lines, stability and the individual man):
Baroque (bold, chaotic, dramatic):
Romantic(romanticize the simple hard working life):
Do you see the difference?
this post has re-wired my brain in the best way
greatest dynamic in the world IS strange, eccentric asshole and their normal and polite friend who on closer inspection is actually worse in deeply weird and unexpected ways
(Source: Sen the donkey)
this is like basic foundational misogyny 101 but the fact that it's almost unconsciously ingrained to consider trousers a more "practical" alternative to skirts across the majority of human cultures does make me feel a little kicked in the head. this isn't even anything against pants, it's just that skirts are functionally not dissimilar at all. they're comfortable, capable of being tailored to suit a variety of purposes both aesthetic and functional, and simply what some people prefer. and yet, because they're so strongly tied to women and femininity, they're derided. a long skirt is an impediment; shortening a skirt is a sexual act. throughout history humans of all demographics have worn skirts and skirt-like clothing for a variety of purposes, but to wear a skirt in our enlightened modern age is a heavily gendered and politically loaded notion. and we just tolerate living like this. fucking unreal.
🚬 yeah.
Modern day Loustat Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid for Entertainment Weekly
It deeply saddens me that "pdf file" has become slang for pedo. Don't you dare disrespect my wife the beautiful portable document format ever again
and to the children in the notes saying we need this fucking baby talk to get around censorship online; there's been no credible evidence that any site other that YouTube (which will only demonetize your video, ftr) will actually censor or hide content that include words like rape, pedophile, gun, terrorist, etc. etc. and even if we take as a given they were (which, again, they are not), do not fucking comply in advance, you absolute fucking coward. and ESPECIALLY do not comply by altering your real life fucking vocabulary. don't let the technocrats dictate what words you say holy fucking shit dude!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is it, this is the one
you know what? fuck it, man. the world is held in the fists of people who like to break things. at this point i’m saying who gives a shit. wear that victorian dress you don’t have an excuse for. dress up like a witch, pointed hat and all. who cares anymore. why worry about it when there’s bigger stuff to worry on. i’m saying. yeah, this lipstick is too dark, wanna share? i’m saying go talk to her, tell her that you like her hair. i’m saying she’s out of my league but i’m still swinging, i’m saying yeah i’m in a ballgown and it’s a pta meeting. what about it. eat the extra brownie, tell her your feelings. i’m saying if nothing matters than we might as well give nothing meaning.
#i’m saying if existence is a void at least i’m going down screaming.
it’s been 9 years since i wrote this. i was experiencing 24/7 anxiety so badly that i needed serious medication. these days in the back of my car is an “emergency party box.” when people admit they no longer really celebrate their birthday; i tell them to put the sash on and queue up kesha, we’re going bowling or something. these days i can’t spin around without finding something i am enamored with. these days i list 3 things i’m grateful for before i fall asleep. you’re probably one of them, just by virtue of you existing.
at the time i wrote this, i was suffering through a severe panic attack literally every night. i tortured my brother with constant 2 AM calls just to hear someone else breathing, because i couldn’t be alone in the silence.
i rarely wish i was still 23 even though ironically i had more hope back then. what i can tell you is this: i love the same way, but bigger now. i’ve worn the velvet cape to several business meetings. i spent thursday in a crop top without caring what my stomach looked like.
i told her i like her; i often dress as a witch. i still got glass in my foot this morning. i’ve kissed maybe a thousand people since then and met a million more than that; passing like the shadow of a hammerhead in trains and planes and buses.
i saw you, beloved, there, maybe, on platform in south station. you didn’t speak, but you said: i struggle to give the nothing meaning. the nothing fills up everything. it is just loud and yellowed panicked silence. i can’t stop shaking.
on the roof, birds curl together against the chilled spring wind. the sky outside of the craft store was an iridescent pink. the nothing already had meaning; you are giving it meaning by witnessing.
the act of living, beloved: it’s just decoding how to translate it.
Interviews with hockey players are fantastic, because it is a complex game that can be spoken about at length, but during the intermission they'll find the Wettest player imaginable on the losing team and for thirty seconds they'll ask them things like "what do you need to do to get more pucks in the net?" And the player (panting, haunted behind the eyes) says something like "well, we've got to get them in there"
making a collection
Wait I have more
Can't help but giggle is my favorite genre