pipwasreal

30s, Australian, like a lovesick kraken. She/they. Occasionally I write or draw. Mostly I just flail. Come, flail with me.

[eisenkrahe]

My wife just introduced me to this. The choreography is wonderfully inventive.

[disease]

"TOD UND LEBEN" ("DEATH AND LIFE") GUSTAV KLIMT // 1910 [oil on canvas | 71.06 x 78.93"]

[queensinchains]

THE SHEEP DETECTIVES (2026) dir. Kyle Balda

[batavias]

Doctor says I got the depression from a lavender bush growing outside my house. Yep. The smell drifting in through open windows in the summer heat made me melancholy. [reacting to everyone's incredulousness and getting defensive and aggressive] I'm telling you that's what he fucking SAID. He said scents can bring about a mournfulness in the soul. No. He said there's nothing to be done about it now

[schramere]

I love Moriarty

[eisenkrahe]

James Taylor. Poor wee bean.

[letterful]

In Orwell’s essay “A Hanging,” the writer watches the condemned man, walking toward the gallows, swerve to avoid a puddle. For Orwell, this represents precisely what he calls the “mystery” of the life that is about to be taken: when there is no good reason for it, the condemned man is still thinking about keeping his shoes clean. It is an “irrelevant” act (and a marvelous bit of noticing on Orwell’s part). Now suppose this were not an essay but a piece of fiction. And indeed there has been a fair amount of speculation about the proportion of fact to fiction in such essays of Orwell’s. 

The avoidance of the puddle would be precisely the kind of superb detail that, say, Tolstoy might flourish; War and Peace has an execution scene very close in spirit to Orwell’s essay, and it may well be that Orwell basically cribbed the detail from Tolstoy. In War and Peace, Pierre witnesses a man being executed by the French, and notices that, just before death, the man adjusts the blindfold at the back of his head, because it is uncomfortably tight. The avoidance of the puddle, the fiddling with the blindfold—these are what might be called irrelevant or superfluous details. They are not explicable; in fiction, they exist to denote precisely the inexplicable. This is one of the “effects” of realism, of “realistic” style. 

But Orwell’s essay, assuming it records an actual occurrence, shows us that such fictional effects are not merely conventionally irrelevant, or formally arbitrary, but have something to tell us about the irrelevance of reality itself (…) There was no logical reason for the condemned man to avoid the puddle. It was pure remembered habit. Life, then, will always contain an inevitable surplus, a margin of the gratuitous, a realm in which there is always more than we need: more things, more impressions, more memories, more habits, more words, more happiness, more unhappiness. 

— JAMES WOOD, from How Fiction Works.

[letterful]

What exactly do these irrational standards mean? They mean the supremacy of the detail over the general, of the part that is more alive than the whole, of the little thing which a man observes and greets with a friendly nod of the spirit while the crowd around him is being driven by some common impulse to some common goal. I take my hat off to the hero who dashes into a burning house and saves his neighbor’s child; but I shake his hand if he has risked squandering a precious five seconds to find and save, together with the child, its favorite toy. I remember a cartoon depicting a chimney sweep falling from the roof of a tall building and noticing on the way that a sign-board had one word spelled wrong, and wondering in his headlong flight why nobody had thought of correcting it. In a sense, we all are crashing to our death from the top story of our birth to the flat stones of the churchyard and wondering with an immortal Alice in Wonderland at the patterns of the passing wall. This capacity to wonder at trifles — no matter the imminent peril — these asides of the spirit, these footnotes in the volume of life are the highest forms of consciousness, and it is in this childishly speculative state of mind, so different from commonsense and its logic, that we know the world to be good.

— VLADIMIR NABOKOV, from Lectures on Literature.

[phleb0tomist]

so many people ive known have pushed themselves to burnout trying to deny their disabled reality, skipping accommodations, skipping rests etc. and the world convinces them that the solution to their burnout is to push even harder. it’s a huge tragedy. i know social pressures make it tough but i want more disabled people to make things easier for themselves where possible, to opt out of things that harm them when possible, to quit while they’re ahead. be that person today! protect yourself where you can! take micro breaks while doing your hobby. get that shower chair. sit to brush your teeth. lie down in the middle of the day, even if only for 5 mins. these things add up and it’s so worth it.

[phleb0tomist]

happy disability pride month! ACCOMMODATE YOURSELF TODAY!

[theangrykimchi]

[eisenkrahe]

Such a long noodle.

Forgive me, other guy. I'm tired and I suck at looking people up on my best day.

[mememorecowboythanyou]

Anyways hi here is another fleabag piece I did, let's hope it doesn't get me BANNED. I'm too scared to repost the one that did </3

[evardstentacles]

fuck everything. whats the media people ASSUME youre into. what are people surprised that you havent watched/played/whatever

[sunnynabons]

Man also RIP Sir Arthur Conan Doyle you would've loved House MD

[geeoharee]

Conan Doyle drew this when he passed his medical exams

description: a simple doodle of a man in a pea-coat, jumping for joy. he's holding a piece of paper headed DIPLOMA. underneath him in cursive, it says 'Licensed to kill'

[eisenkrahe]

Smol bean makes serious fase.

[slowgravity]

TROYE SIVAN 2026 | via Instagram (July 14)

[eisenkrahe]

James is such a little wino.

[pipwasreal]

When I saw @meredithmcclaren had sketchcard commissions open I jumped at the chance to get these silly boys in her adorable style! Thank you!