@theartofmadeline
Jules of Nature
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JBB: An Artblog!
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Cosimo Galluzzi
Three Goblin Art
RMH
noise dept.
Cosmic Funnies
One Nice Bug Per Day
NASA
Not today Justin
hello vonnie
$LAYYYTER
ellievsbear
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@rosewithoutsaying
Mega Contest! $250 total in prizes! Ends Saturday 6/18 at 7pm pacific time. See photo for info! Instagram users must be public accounts and must use the TAG and HASHTAG #wfomegacontest . Don’t spam your followers - one entry per day. One entry per account for tumblr / Pinterest / Facebook - All social media links at the bottom of worldfamousoriginal.com (link in profile) 5 winners each get $50 in merch a piece! Any questions? Ask in the comments 👇
Whatever forever
Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.
Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things (via hibbsdibbs)
Dolly Parton on stage in the 1960s (via)
You know, I wanna look at the flower and appreciate the beauty of the flower for instance. Somebody else might say - you can look at the flower and BECOME the flower... isn't that even better? But then further I would love it, on the cruise, if I could look at the flower, appreciate the beauty of the flower, and then have the flower appreciate the beauty of me. That's how I feel about cruising right now. I mean YES - becoming the flower would be a lot of fun. I can do that too. I can do that on Wednesday afternoon... I think I'm free Thursday afternoon - I can try to become the flower. But come the weekend, God damn it, I will appreciate the beauty of the flower and then, likewise, I will stand exhibitionistic having the flower appreciate the beauty of me. And I think having an intimate, quote unquote, love affair with a flower is far more psychotic and riveting than having a "love affair" with some of the banal creatures of the human race... Although I would be into that too.
Timothy “Speed” Levitch
Don’t jam my wave band
10 Things You Can Do When you’re Feeling Down | Brittany Josephina
Great stuff
“Dillhole” 😂
HOT FUCKING DAMN
READ THIS EVERYBODY
Thank you.
Rose Byrne & Heath Ledger, Las Vegas 1999. Photographed by Rupert Thorpe.
Tuesday vibes ;*
Today at therapy was really hard. I was sitting here crying, and generally being miserable, when I felt a nudge at my knee. I looked down to see that Zeus, my service dog, was doing his job… and brought me a potato. it is very hard to cry with a gift of potato.
Remember this? I’m having a rough time right now. Zeus has a solution.
That would be an empty pill bottle, the *correct* pill bottle, a bottle of embossing powder, and two, TWO potatoes.
You’re worth at least 2 potato to him and that’s pretty special imo.
In high school, I was an ugly girl. I don’t know if others remember me that way, but I do. I did not understand how to apply makeup or how to deal with my frizzy hair. I was heavier. I did not dress well. I found my body frustrating and humiliating. I knew if I were attractive, I would be treated better. I knew also that to judge me on my appearance was a double standard. If I had been a boy, my beauty would matter less. I knew it was unfair, but the unfairness was not what bothered me. What bothered me was my own inability to demystify beauty. To buy new clothes, get a good haircut, and play the game. I did not learn how to apply makeup until I was 21 and had disposable income for the first time. When I did, I was suddenly fascinated by conventional beauty. I lived in a house with 5 anarchists, and I was obsessed with consuming product after product, buying outfit after outfit. I liked the ritual of it, the artistry, but it was never about self-expression. I loved the idea of becoming a passive, easy type of beautiful. It seemed smart. I thought if I could just master the art of beauty, people would leave me alone, and my insecurities and fear about always sticking out (and being left out) would go with them. I realized recently I interact with my body only in the ways it is perceived by others. This realization was not upsetting or cathartic. My body has just never been an aspect of being alive I found useful or interesting to dwell on. Like nearly everything else, I view it with a kind of anxious detachment. It’s nourishment and grooming are confusing, burdensome obligations. What I think of my body does not matter. My body is just the window through which other people see me. It has to be dressed a certain way in order to be understood. Nothing I have experienced in my life, not physical assault, love of a trusted partner, life-threatening infection, or prolonged, encumbering illness has ever brought me close to my body. Perhaps because my body was never mine to begin with. Perhaps it has always been a thing of shame. A vessel. A burden of womanhood. The ways I dress and draw on my makeup are attempts to manipulate others into treating me well. It is important to me to be treated with kindness, and when I wear makeup people are kinder to me. When I wear nice clothes people treat me like I have my life together, and I very much want to have my life together. My appearance is just an attempt to look pretty enough to get me where I want to go. I have a willingness to adapt and live within the world as it is, not as I would like it to be. I have more ambition than a dozen men. Beauty, perhaps not. Autonomy? Sometimes I feel I have none.
On Having A Body, Clementine von Radics (via everybodyandtelevision)
Pure bliss
