#dc#dc comics#batman#tim drake#bruce wayne#dick grayson#dc fanart#batfamily#batfam
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Lithuania
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from T1
seen from Singapore
seen from Yemen
seen from Malaysia
seen from Lithuania
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
my husband & his beautiful doll wife that dresses like xe is always about to go attend a funeral
what doth it mean
*tries so hard not to judge. Tries so hard not to judge. Tries so hard.
7.2.24 / day 9 of romanticizing my life until i love myself again
i am capable of so much, i can jot down some thoughts about my day and upload the photos i’ve already taken before i go to sleep, i tell myself every day, and somehow, around midnight, i tell myself it’s time, and end up finally doing it just before 2
as i write this, the nickleback documentary (love to hate) is playing in the background, it makes me think abut my conversation with mf yesterday about death, and legacy
legacy is underrated, charli says, and while i think so much of legacy is tied to privilege and nepotism and classism, i also agree in some ways. while i don’t think the past should define what is popular or notable now, i do think that we’ve come to a point in media where we focus so exclusively on the quick dopamine shot, the viral star, the instant celebrity, that we’ve forgotten why art is so much more appealing than life: it outlives us.
when i spent my time trying to be the next great american author, i told myself (half out of fear of rejection albeit) that i didn’t want success in my lifetime. i wanted to die, for my work to be discovered years later, and develop a cult-like following posthumously. yes, part of this was because i feared the prospect of becoming successful in my own short little life. and it was also because what i craved in my art was something that would transcend this present moment, that would speak to the future world. i wanted to make art that pushed boundaries and limits, and i didn’t care if everyone understood it now. i still feel that way. i am less afraid of rejection. i was rejected for a scholarship the other day, and when i received the email, i reminded myself that i didn’t even want to go back to school unless it was free. i smoked some weed and went about my day.
today, as i sat in my friend’s car in a cemetery in burbank, talking about life, music, and art, as we always do, a deer walked toward us from the other side of the cemetery and started munching on some flowers the gardener had just planted. and, though he didn’t get close, i swear he walked straight toward us for a moment and stared me right in the eye.
maybe what that psychic said wasn’t true and she was just trying to drain me of my savings and i’m not marked with the x for success in my palm. maybe everyone’s palm has that. maybe that’s just the way palms work. but being with friends who are doing the thing with me, who see the buck in the cemetery, foraging among the dead as we smoke cigarettes in his chevy and listen to demos we pray will become singles we plead to the gods people will enjoy listening and moving and crying to, i think to myself, i don’t need a psychic, and i never have. maybe my future has never been waiting for me, perhaps i have always been creating it, and will create it, one hour at a time, until i die.
in the middle of watching the nickelback documentary, i took sweet pea for a late night walk, after midnight, and i brought some scissors with me. i figured they could serve dual use as protection if needed. i walked a few blocks away from my building, waited for sweet pea to poop, and then began foraging. there is so much to forage in this city; i’ve noticed more so now that i don’t have a yard with fruit trees and such. sweet pea started sniffing a bush that i discovered to be rosemary, so i took some of that (note to self: never buy fresh rosemary again, and don’t worry about getting a plant for your apartment that you will kill) and stuffed it into my fanny pack before cutting off some white roses outside of another apartment building and some purple hibiscus from a tree outside of a separate building. i’m never buying flowers again.
who says there is no nature in this city?
Briana via her IG story | July 2, 2024
7/2/24
[√(7 + 2)]! = 2 + 4
Briana via her IG story | July 2, 2024
Briana via her IG story | July 2, 2024
