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Lets rise and grind today boys lets grt plugged tf in and get our money up lets stack it till we cant see get that money up ubtil the sky darkens we gonna grind it tf out today until our bones cant take it we grind until we are dust

#banner: mayan queen consort depicted performing a blood sacrifice by drawing a barbed rope through her tongue in yaxchilán lintel 24

venerable-thief

dreamt I was hiking down in a canyon, following a new washout, ochre sandstone clay, as I sank below the horizon the afternoon sun gave way to vale of shade and the fresh water could be smelt and heard but not seen

To have that sense of one's intrinsic worth which, for better or for worse, constitutes self-respect, is potentially to have everything: the ability to discriminate, to love and to remain indifferent. To lack it is to be locked within oneself, paradoxically incapable of either love or indifference. If we do not respect ourselves, we are on the one hand forced to despise those who have so few resources as to consort with us, so little perception as to remain blind to our fatal weaknesses. On the other, we are peculiarly in thrall to everyone we see, curiously determined to live out—since our self-image is untenable—their false notions of us. We flatter ourselves by thinking this compulsion to please others an attractive trait: a gift for imaginative empathy, evidence of our willingness to give. Of course we will play Francesca to Paolo, Brett Ashley to Jake, Helen Keller to anyone's Annie Sullivan: no expectation is too misplaced, no role too ludicrous. At the mercy of those we can not but hold in contempt, we play roles doomed to failure before they are begun, each defeat generating fresh despair at the necessity of divining and meeting the next demand made upon us. It is the phenomenon sometimes called alienation from self. In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the spectre of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that one's sanity becomes an object of speculation among one's acquaintances. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves—there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.

Excerpt from “Self-respect: Its Source, Its Power” by Joan Didion, published in Vogue in August, 1963; republished in 1968 as “On Self-Respect” in Slouching Towards Bethlehem.

cutsofguiltcutsdeeper

I fucking hate field theory. Someone should shoot Galois.

palmtoshoulder

3000s

guy who got heat exhaustion and threw up at work: it's fine to throw up at work

bruzum

pjackk

ugly as fuck flower i crushed all of them

grindrbooks

Did you know that The Park (pictured) by Gustav Klimt has been interpreted as producing a sense of anxiety in the viewer despite its "apparently innocent depiction of a park"?

English Wikipedia's leading "Did you know..." entry on its homepage on Sunday, May 17th, 2026.

#i agree with the interpreter...#apparently the moma has it but i felt like i would have noticed if it was on display last time i went