my debut album, transit, is out now. more soon but i would appreciate the listen if you have the time <3
we're not kids anymore.

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if i look back, i am lost
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

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gracie abrams
art blog(derogatory)
todays bird

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Jules of Nature
Stranger Things
One Nice Bug Per Day

oozey mess
ojovivo

Love Begins
Claire Keane
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Not today Justin
noise dept.
seen from United States
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@queercafe
my debut album, transit, is out now. more soon but i would appreciate the listen if you have the time <3
i think this captures the defining pathology of the collective social media psyche right now. we are in the thrall of people who are wantonly cruel but who also demand to be coddled at all times in every way
"I would never jeopardize the beans" pales in comparison to it's newest successor, "beans r not woke. How could u do this?"
One of the best letters I’ve ever seen just popped up on my Facebook memories. Still makes me laugh.
As today is the 50th anniversary of the moon landing, it’s a great time to revisit Dinah from Devon’s memory of this historic event. And yes, still makes me laugh.
Today is the 54th anniversary of the moon landing, but Dinah’s diary entry is still absolutely magnificent.
57th anniversary of the moon landing and the best diary entry in the history of diary entries. Sit down Samuel Pepys, it’s over. UGH.
americans are like i was gifted child but also i didnt learn other countries existed until i was 35 years old
making this post ruined my life
so here's the thing about bad art in capitalism
if you make bad visual art, that is so cool. put it up for sale, use it to sell commissions, who cares. The people who like it will be attracted to it and might buy it, the rest of the people won't.
But the problem with bad performing arts (and I'm coming at this from a theatre writers perspective) is that you ask people to invest BEFORE letting them see the art. If I write a play, I am asking someone to buy a ticket and invest a lot of their time before they find out if it's any good. And so I think we have a responsibility as artists to only put out our absolute best work in that context! and to recognize if our skills are not yet developed enough to make work that can demand market prices! anything else is scamming people, i'm sorry.
This twink wishes he was HALF the weirdo.
I love how this sentence could apply in either direction
no it couldn't. show gonzo some respect.
Ok, need to make a Very Scientific Poll to settle some marital disharmony:
When making bagels, should you put cream cheese on
before toasting
after toasting
abortion on demand without question apology or moralization
i literally love abortion. thank god for abortion 🩷
You have to separate the art from the Garfunkel
“average person eats 3 spiders a year” factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
They found the last golden ticket . So that’s just it then . Fuck my stupid horrible pathetic life. Cabbage soup for dinner again , my stupid mothtsr. Grandpa Joe said he’s sorry but I know he doesn’t really give a fuck . And who gives a fuck about the other three old people in my house . Whatever their names is. Fuck fuck fuck it’s all worthless . They even made fun of me at school for only buying like 3 wonka bars. Nepo pricks . Fuck my stupid life it’s all fucked it’s all fucked . And my last name is bucket
having a hometown is such a fucked up concept. i grew up here so i do not want to stay here anymore. i miss it when i am away but once i am back i realise why i wanted to go away as far as possible from it. i am familiar with every corner of this place i did not realise when it slowly changed into something unrecognisable. i would probably like to be buried here but i'd rather die than live here
it’s funny cuz it’s true
I laminated a paper towel
why does this have 31 thousand notes
You made it useless but also prevented it from the end it was predestined for.
But wait this is actually freaking me out though, it raises so many questions about the otherwise incomprehensible meaning of life as a collective whole versus personal sustenance and longevity
Imagine if one day you were given a choice: Become immortal and indestructible for eternity, unable to be harmed by anything ever again, and get to live forever.
However, in order to achieve that you must give up whatever your purpose in life is. Whatever it is that you were always meant to do, what you were supposed to contribute to the overall scheme and future of the life of the universe, your purpose… the whole reason you were even created, even born in the first place. You must give that up. You don’t know what that is. You’ll never know; But, regardless, you say yes.
Perhaps you assume you wouldn’t have made any sort of significant difference anyway. That butterfly effect theory or whatever they call it? Nah, you call bullshit. It doesn’t matter - you don’t matter, at least not to anything outside of your immediate connections - and it’ll all be fine, and you’ll just live forever with minimal (or maybe even no) consequences.
So, yay! You’re now immortal. You’ll never die or get hurt ever again. Wee!
But then, centuries and centuries later (not to mention that by this point you’ve gone through horrible heartbreak and misery and despair because every loved one you ever had, every friend you ever made, ever person you barely got to know, has passed away, died as you lived on long without them, helpless to do anything for them as you watched them perish, unable to ever go with them or ever see them again. But I digress), now, you learn you actually were important in the grand scheme of things. You were supposed to be a key factor in the world’s survival, long ago; but, because of the choice you made (immortality over individual purpose), you were never given the knowledge or awareness or resources or ability to save the world that you were always supposed to obtain, before you unknowingly made the wrongest choice to ever wrong.
Needless to say, you’ve fucked up big time.
The entire universe as we know it is destroyed soon after this horrifying revelation. It implodes, collapses in on itself, essentially forming a massive black hole or something. Stars, nebulae, galaxies, solar systems and planets, worlds and worlds of living people and things, and light-years of time and space and life, all sucked up into absolute, indefinite nothingness.
But you remain.
Just you. Floating amongst, spiraling around, rocketing through, suspended in… nothing. With a feeling of such unbelievable loneliness that your feeble brain can hardly perceive, can’t possibly hope to comprehend. Not only are you the only living thing left, you don’t even have one inanimate object to keep you company. You have literally. Nothing. And you are literally nowhere. I mean, technically, you are now the universe - if it would bring you petty comfort to think about it that way. You. Only you. With nothing, no one, nowhere. Forever. And ever. And ever.
All because you thought you didn’t matter. That you had no real, meaningful purpose. That you could never possibly make a difference.
But you did. And now look what you’ve gotten yourself into, you silly nugget. You’re gonna be pretty bored and lonely for that eternity, huh?
Or maybe it was out of selfishness. Maybe this wasn’t because you felt useless, but because you simply only cared about prolonging your own life and nothing else. Hm.
The moral here? Be selfless, and always know and remember that you matter.
Or else, one day, you might destroy the universe. And be left to suffer, and be tortured horribly and endlessly by the void of nothingness that has consumed you. With no way to escape. Ever.
Other moral because I got sidetracked from my initial point - all things considered, would you choose longevity over purpose? Immortality over meaning?
OR, IDK, MAYBE SOME IDIOT JUST LAMINATED A STUPID PIECE OF PAPER TOWEL FOR NO GOOD REASON
AND MAYBE I SHOULDNT BE LOOKING FOR THE ANSWERS TO THE MEANING OF OUR SHORT, FRAGILE LIVES IN
A LAMINATED
PAPER
T OW E L
IDK MAN,
I D K
Write. A. Book.
What if I did write a book
and the pages of that book
were made out of
laminated
paper towels
I WASNT GONNA REBLOG UNTIL THAT LAST COMMENT