
JBB: An Artblog!
cherry valley forever
hello vonnie
Stranger Things
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Cosimo Galluzzi

@theartofmadeline
we're not kids anymore.
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RMH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Xuebing Du
Misplaced Lens Cap
Today's Document
YOU ARE THE REASON

oozey mess
Three Goblin Art
Keni
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@onlyhanne
I’m still really quite emotional about Stornoway’s farewell
I’m, quite possibly, the world’s worst goodbyer. To the extent that I usually avoid it or minimise it: a quick hug and a ‘see ya soon’, even if one of us is booked onto a one-way flight.
I also, like most people, attach a huge emotional importance to music. I’m never without my headphones, the only time my room is quiet is when I’m sleeping, and I have on more than one occasion, missed my bus stop because I was too engrossed in a song to get off the damn bus.
Stornoway's music saw me through my teenage years and early twenties. It saw me through unrequited crushes, through messy, sticky, unfinished breakups, through depression and therapy, through almost dropping out of university and then graduating triumphantly, through the deepest holes of anxiety and all the sunny days in between. Brian’s voice has been my companion when I felt like the loneliest person in the world, and has been there for joyous celebrations of friendship at festivals, gigs, and car rides.
Each song reminds me of a person, or a time, or a conversation. Of memories of lying on the grass at Latitude in the blissful sunshine, only to have to jump up and run into the crowd because it was too good not to dance. Of late nights in uni flats introducing friends to their back catalogues. Of gigs with old friends, (ex)boyfriends, and flatmates.
Thank you for the music, for the melodies and poetry, for teaching me that a bonxie is a bird, for being unashamedly passionate about many and varied things; that lesson was perhaps more important than any other.
We’ll miss you, and eagerly await the reunion x
birthdays vs. anxiety: the 2017 edition
it’s my birthday next week (hurrah) and one of the reasons I love birthdays is that feeling of being surrounded with people I love. Not necessarily being centre of attention - I’m too blush-prone for that - but knowing that the most important people are with me for at least a day. One of the perks of being freelance is having my birthday off work. One of the drawbacks is that I don’t have permanent colleagues - and all my other pals don’t have the day off work. My family are 200 miles away, and whilst I’ve arranged an evening in the pub to raise a glass to being 23, I have a whole day to kill on my own before then.
I’m good at spending time on my own - I quite like it. Plus, you get used to it when being single is your trademark. That said, there’s a difference between being alone and choosing to be alone. And when it’s the former, it can get quite, well, lonely.
So here’s the thing. I can plan a day full of treats - breakfast at my favourite cafe, a matinee in the West End, maybe even a cheeky makeover at a beauty counter. And I can enjoy them, in my solitude, knowing this is a day for spoiling myself. I can also enjoy them knowing that it’s circumstance, an unhappy coincidence of adult life, that my best pals are either out of London or working the day of my birthday. For them, it’s just another day.
But let me tell you - my anxiety is having none of it. One of the most fun parts of this illness (read: not the most fun) is your brain’s utter, unsinkable ability to convince you that your friends aren’t really your friends - that you’re a burden. And the logical, ‘normal’ part of my brain knows that’s bullshit, frankly. I treasure my friends and they treasure me. They’re some of the best (platonic) relationships I will ever have. And they’ll be heading to join me at the pub as soon as they’ve sent that last email and clocked out for the day. But always, sometimes deep down and sometimes raging at the forefront of my mind, is that lovely unshakeable parasite: ‘they hate you’ ‘they hate you’ ‘they hate you’. They don’t, and I won’t let it convince me they do. And I’ll spend my birthday celebrating me. I won’t say I won’t let it get to me: I’m prone to a wobble and I’m sure Thursday will be no different. But I won’t let it defeat me into spending the day in bed, napping and half-watching Netflix.
i will not support your feminism if it doesn’t include black, latinx, transgender, disabled, muslim, jewish, lgbtq+ women
Stornoway - Fuel Up