
shark vs the universe
dirt enthusiast
YOU ARE THE REASON

roma★

blake kathryn
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
we're not kids anymore.
Stranger Things
h
Three Goblin Art

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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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Cosmic Funnies
Jules of Nature

Product Placement

oozey mess
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
$LAYYYTER
ojovivo
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@objects-food-rooms
Andrei Tarkovski Polaroid Photograph - ( Polaroid print)
#love
the world was so pink tonight i was in awe
Charles Bergquist
Colourful Flowers in Utah Deserts Captured by Guy Tal
Hot Ride.
The 500 SL Rallye in the Californian Desert.
Death card from the Dalà Universal Tarot (Juan Llarch & Salvador DalÃ, 1970s, released in 1985).
(via Pinterest)
liminal air shinji ohmaki
Climate scientist warns of rapid rise in sea level, more intense storms
Former NASA scientist James Hansen, an adjunct professor at Columbia University’s Earth Institute, has worked with 16 other researchers to author a lengthy study outlining a scenario of potentially rapid sea-level rise combined with more intense storm systems.
A snippet of that study?
“If the ocean continues to accumulate heat and increase melting of marine-terminating ice shelves of Antarctica and Greenland, a point will be reached at which it is impossible to avoid large scale ice sheet disintegration with sea level rise of at least several meters.”
People like me make art to explain ourselves because speaking about those things is not possible. We make art to process our feelings because we can’t do it correctly, because talking about it isn’t enough, because letting it go isn’t enough. Art is a perversion of the mind, an attempt to deep dream in the day because the subconscious failed to wipe up the mess at night. The mop left out, blood still all over the floor, demons passed out. People like me make art and that does not make us better, we are generally worse because of it, emotional cripples, skin invisibly tattooed, scarred by decisions made for us by genetics and cyclical patterns of indecency and shame, communicators of a very lonely, self-created, and often disgusting language. Art can be beautiful but do not confuse it with beauty, it is the erosion of memory, the denial of allowing things to pass without reflection and question. I make art because I am trying to cover for the fact that I feel broken. I am trying to offer the world something of value so that I may be of value, despite feeling defective. Even when I am writing or photographing something beautiful there is always that underlying feeling of loss, because life is so fleeting, and things are quickly gone. Attempts at preservation of the beautiful stem from the sorrow of loss and the desire to build.
In life you will find people with an elusive charm that draws you in. A familiarity, a warmth, a glimpse of the gateway to intimacy, mischief, and reclamation of trust that existed before throes of childhood, before the child brain knew chaos and abandonment. These people will leave a mark on you that is like the pull of addiction, the thrill of snorting a line of painkiller that feels like complete safety, mental cashmere against your mind’s skin, sensitive to touch and craving more. You will be drawn in, perhaps mildly resistant at first, hesitant out of old fear, but that thought is already retreating, the last horse left behind at the gate as the rest charge.
People like this can become a fantasy construction of the mind, a simple person with insecurities and mediocrity transformed into something greater than reality, imbued by the mythology and the disservice of memory, the persistence of memory.
When I think of loving someone like this I think of that greek story where a lover travels to the world of death to reclaim his lost wife. He is instructed that he may bring her back to the world of the living, under one condition: that he not look behind him as he leads her out, that he just trust that she is following. He fails to do this, looks behind him for assurance, and she is lost, slips back into darkness. He is then torn limb from limb and placed in a tomb at the mouth of the place where she is lost to rest in peace.
Having faith in another person’s ability to do the right thing by you in frightening. Admitting feelings for another, pursuing another, can feel humiliating and undignified, that you don’t deserve to go after what you want, that perhaps you have it wrong, that just because you feel it, doesn’t mean it’s there. There is unknown, the fear that being forward means you are being too available, that the other person has power over you. But the reality is, that person had power over you as soon as you realized they got under your skin. And directly pursuing them is a way to negotiate that power dynamic. For me personally, directly pursuing is preferable because it gives me control: the control to have affection for them freely, and then the control to move on quickly when it is clear it is not working. Be forward. Have faith. Have perspective. People will fail and disappoint you. Do not be bitter. Do not have expectations. Do not let fantasy constructions take over and become obsession. Have faith in yourself to do the right thing for others, and feel confident. You cannot make someone love you back. You cannot control what the world throws at you. You can, however, make a decision to fight back in the form of doing well by others, even when it is painful, even when it would feel easier to be bitter, angry, self righteous. Fight back. Pull yourself out of graves created for you, pull yourself out of people that marked you. Leave the dead to bury the dead, do not be a casualty of strangers, your past, or wasted love.
Katy Grannan ”The Nine,” forthcoming in 2015.
I <3 Katy Grannan