Keni
occasionally subtle
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
$LAYYYTER
Xuebing Du
JVL
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Cosimo Galluzzi
Three Goblin Art
Andulka
roma★
Origami Around
macklin celebrini has autism
Peter Solarz
taylor price
shark vs the universe
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
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@shchai-blog
There are times when you surprise yourself with your own capacity to feel affection for others. Even for those whom have hurt you in ways that you felt that you had become irreversibly damaged by. And, so, you keep to yourself a small prayer that you may always feel, at least in part, this easy love.
Zubi zubi zoo?
I’m in a weird place right now. It’s strange, I think I may be in the position where I could mess with someone else’s head.
I’m still too emotional and self destructive to allow myself to consider a serious relationship again (and frankly, I’m also way too fucking young to be worried about any kind of forever shit anyway). But I’m also a little bit lonely, and maybe just selfish enough to pretend to believe a vulnerable guy when says he won’t get hurt.
the click of miracle
at the quarterhorse meet at Hollywood Park around 5 p.m. if you are sitting at ground level in the Pavilion the track appears to be above you and in the strange shadow- sunlight the silks are so bright the color is like fresh paint on canvas and the faces of the jocks look heroic. it's a grand time then a perfect and peaceful photograph dream- like. such small moments keep people alive. such small moments so large when it all comes together and holds.
Too Sweet
I have been going to the track for so long that all the employees know me, and now with winter here it's dark before the last race. as I walk to the parking lot the valet recognizes my slouching gait and before I reach him my car is waiting for me, lights on, engine warm. the other patrons (still waiting) ask, "who the hell is that guy?"
I slip the valet a tip, the size depending upon the luck of the day (and my luck has been amazingly good lately) and I then am in the machine and out on the street as the horses break from the gate.
I drive east down Century Blvd. turning on the radio to get the result of that last race.
at first the announcer is concerned only with bad weather and poor freeway conditions. we are old friends: I have listened to his voice for decades but, of course, the time will finally come when neither one of us will need to clip our toenails or heed the complaints of our women any longer.
meanwhile, there is a certain rhythm to the essentials that now need attending to. I light my cigarette check the dashboard adjust the seat and weave between a Volks and a Fiat. as flecks of rain spatter the windshield I decide not to die just yet: this good life just smells too sweet.
John Ruskin Considers the Nature of Water, Circa 1842
A found poem from Ruskin's Modern Painters
Now the fact is that there is hardly a roadside pond or pool which has not as much landscape in it as above it. It is not the dull, muddy, brown thing we suppose it to be; it has a heart like ourselves, and in the bottom of that there are the boughs of the tall trees, and the blades of the shaking grass, and all manner of hues, of variable, pleasant light out of the sky; nay, the ugly gutter that stagnates over the drain bars, in the heart of the foul city, is not altogether base; down in that, if you will look deep enough, you may see the dark, serious blue of far-off sky, and the passing of pure clouds.
Terms of Endearment
Sweet biscuit of my life, I've been thinking of your smile and how I'd steal a little bite of it if you were here; of the delights I've known in the alleyway between the whitewashed storefronts of your teeth; of how I've pressed one smithereen after another of mille-feuille, mousseline of late-night conversation upon your lips, forever poised at the brink of kissdom, their slightest sigh enough to lift a tableskirt. Perfectest pumpkin in the patch, your heft on mine is what I crave, your brows so fine I could not carve them with a steak knife. You have the acorn eyes of the football season, the ass of an autumn afternoon, of boys en masse in soccer shorts. Yours is the vast contained candescence of a Titian under glass, it is the gold leaf laid by February sun, the lemonade's pale wash in August. Should you fade, like sun on windowsills crocheted with shadow, then suddenly gone dark, your face will leave its watermark upon this page, which is already part of love's confection, our little work of art.
Prince - Little Red Corvette
Holy Ghost
The congregation sang off key. The priest was rambling. The paint was peeling in the Sacristy. A wayward pigeon, trapped in the church, flew wildly around for a while and then flew toward a stained glass window, but it didn't look like reality. The ushers yawned, the dollar bills drifted lazily out of the collection baskets and a child in the front row began to cry. Suddenly, the pigeon flew down low, swooping over the heads of the faithful like the Holy Ghost descending at Pentecost Everyone took it to be a sign, Everyone wants so badly to believe. You can survive anything if you know that someone is looking out for you, but the sky outside the stained glass window, doesn't it look like home?
World, I am your slow guest.
What's for dinner tonight? Red wine and tylenol.
Voices on Jukebox Wax
Pulling our Stetsons low, we whispered songs to sweethearts who clung so close we danced in slow motion, heartache of steel guitars, vows we swore with our bones. Their hair was the air for an hour. We breathed and held them close, ignoring the war for the night, voices on jukebox wax winding around like a rope. One week we kissed them hard and rode off, swearing we'd bring back silk and souvenirs. Long after a war no one we cared for survived without scars, Earl and I are here with wives as old as country songs and guitars, our children older than all of us that fall. Don's a name on the wall in Washington. I hear his name sometimes in questions at class reunions. I haven't heard from Carl.
I've been trying to upload a song for the past 15 minutes and it's not working out. And yeah, it's totally a Drake song.
Whatever, Amy Pohler. It's Friday night and you don't know my life.
Dearly beloved,
I'M GOING TO SEE MOTHERFUCKING PRINCE!