#at five

[softfairies]

you know what

I'm about to spread some positivity cause life is trying to bring me down but I'm not having it,,,, so if you receive a long ass paragraph from me in your asks I'm sorry ashdjfkhk ok no I'm not sorry since you are all amazing and you deserve everything <333

[jpopstreaming]

🆕 「 at FIVE」 by 竹内アンナ Available for streaming worldwide!🌐 Added to our weekly playlist 🎧 https://spoti.fi/3lgjH73

[conversationswithababy]

Baby: Good morning, Mommy!

Me: It is FIVE AM.

Baby: Isn't it a beautiful day??

Me: The sun won't even come up for another two hours.

Baby: I love you! Come sing and dance and play with me!

Me: :) :) :) :)

[jobey-wan-kenobi]

We walked into Cass’s house and there were Paul McCartney and George Harrison. When I saw Paul McCartney I glommed on to him like a baby groupie. He kept saying, “Go on, love, get up and dance.” In a rare moment of shyness, I demurred. I was afraid people would laugh at me. He insisted. I refused. This exchange circled, a teasing game between a little kid and a world-famous musician. Finally I broke down and started dancing. The adults began to point and laugh at the little five-year-old dancing for the rock star. I turned bright red and burst into tears, but then Paul McCartney started consoling me. I was no dummy. I liked being consoled by Paul McCartney. The more he comforted, the more tears I summoned. Finally he picked me up and carried me into a hammock that was suspended in the middle of Cass’s dining room on a pulley. Someone hoisted us up, up, up. The ceilings were two stories tall and we were suspended fifteen feet in the air. I was still snuffling. Paul snuggled up with me until I finally calmed down and eventually fell asleep. The two of us napped together in that hammock, suspended high above the party. You could say I got high and slept with Paul McCartney.

Mackenzie Philips, High on Arrival, via e2hawkeye on r/beatles

[imninetyfivenotdead]

don’t read if you’re lactose intolerant because this is really cheesy

how is it that when I see my body, I avert my gaze but when he looks at me he uses words like ‘goddess’ and ‘amazing’? I am utterly confounded by the beauty he finds in things I have labeled imperfections scars, scratches, bruises he kisses when my joints crackle he asks if i’m okay and i’m not really, but every question brings me to a recognition that sometimes being okay doesn’t mean being functional being okay can be finding a moment where physical pain cannot match internal joy I used to joke that he found me at my most un-composed moments drunk and dreading a new semester sick and painting on a used canvas voiceless and dead tired during work but the truth is, none of these moments have gotten better I am still afraid that my every attempt is not enough I am still perpetually ill with no time to recover I am still losing my voice each shift - metaphorically and literally the truth is, it’s better this way I’m glad my weakness is evident because it’s too much to pretend it isn’t I’m glad we’re vulnerable with each other because strength can be a barrier I’m glad that we have something strong built on understanding every fault

we are so entirely different that we become fitted pieces of a shattered mirror - same image, same details, just varying fragments -

this is exactly what should be happening.

[uhitsveronica]

somebody be an art hoe with me at the brooklyn museum on sunday

[fit-clean-healthy]

I have the nicest outfit picked out for yoga just wait