#belladonna dms

[wh0reeee]

From Alternative Press, Sept 1999

☆ miercoles i love you oh my god, this is amazing. dissonance era robin save me dissonance era robin if you hear me save me.

[wh0reeee]

fellow amateur Pinterest philosopher and spelunker into the algorithmically-guided journey into the human psyche:

a friend just gave me an idea to look up my Myers-Briggs personality type on Pinterest and see if the predominantly associated “aesthetic” and overall vibe is relatable. I have an idea of your self-selected aesthetic but what does Pinterest hive mind think your vibe is according to your personality type? Would love to know yours. I’ll do mine (INFJ). If you haven’t done it, there are several free quizzes online. Funnily, I looked up the personality type of the friend who gave me this idea and the vibe didn’t seem to fit, but I’ve never met them in real life. The first thing I found was, “Like INFJ… but worse.” lol

123GO!

☆ #belladonnaspeaks this is exactly what i mean when i say miercoles mentally matches my freak, i love questions like this. my myers-briggs personality type is INFP, which i have always felt soulfully makes the most sense knowing the definition of infp’s are, “(mediator) is a personality type with the introverted, intuitive, feeling, and prospecting traits”. — many beautifully tragic artists i shared this personality type that feels like a blessing to my art, but a curse to my life, with artists such as: kurt cobain, fiona apple, jeff buckley, robert smith, franz kafka, sylvia path.

so looking into the pinterest algorithm machine, it seems a lot of association with infp’s is what i would call the, “soft sad girl aesthetic” when my visual energy is more taking the macabre and making is disturbingly beautiful — but while looking through these specific images under the ‘infp aesthetic’ did deeply catch my eye.

[wh0reeee]

☆ #belladonnaspeaks i adore this so much. i never fully noticed robin stretching here — i was always too hypnotized by the backstage chaos happening around him, but it makes sense. the way he moves onstage feels less like a performance and more like possession, as if the music, or some invisible god is pulling him by the strings in the sky. a body preparing to be overtaken.

just yesterday, while wandering around a local zoo with one of my close friends, parts of my own body began to ache. we laughed about it — how years of sports without stretching are finally catching up to me — soccer, gymnastics. the kind of childhood games where you feel invincible enough to skip any form of preparation. i never know if those quiet intense aches come from that — or a lifetime of being called an ‘old soul’. youthful on the outside, slowly decaying from the inside.

[wh0reeee]

relevant to our interests

☆ #belladonnaspeaks as i find myself reveling in the depths of a post concert depression, i became so excited seeing this ask <3 — i can’t stop staring at the book title: to photograph is to learn how to die. that possibly is the most accurate way i can describe being an artist. ever since i opened my eyes to this world, i’ve captured images mentally — as if i became the camera in of itself. growing up meant shifting between dream realities until i finally understood, this is what i’m meant to bring into the world. it is this or nothing. art or death.

‘dead eyes, dead eyes are you just like me?’

scrolling through my pinterest today felt invasive. the algorithmic machine dipping its fingers into my veins. the first image that stopped me was a close lineup of veins — something so violently human. i’ve always felt uneasy about veins. maybe because i get lightheaded at the sight of blood, maybe because there isn’t an inch of my body where blue and purple lines don’t show through — an unwanted glimpse of what’s underneath.

and then the trent meme, the fatimah asghar quote. after the concert — after screaming every lyric, after testing my lungs and body and breath — something in me felt exorcised. for the first time, i didn’t just listen to music, i entered it. the memories are hazy, dreamlike. i only remember the burn in my lungs.

‘you’re in my veins you fuck.’

[wh0reeee]

quick. post your last two saved pins and put them side by side right NOW!!!

☆ my last two saved pins? AHH OKAY OKAY <3

☆ #belladonnaspeaks katie jane garside and this photography portrait that stopped me immediately. i have a poster that hangs on my wall, just above where i keep all my journals — of a woman standing in front of a row male urinals. i’ve always been drawn to imagery that feels slightly wrong in the best way — sacred and unsettling all at once. it isn’t just a fascination with the macabre. it’s something deeper.

i’ve always been captivated by the quiet rebellion of bodies placed where they “don’t belong”. the way androgyny makes people hesitate. the way art can simply spin a room by refusing to perform gender ‘correctly’. we unfortunately live in a world that tries to categorize people’s bodies into usefulness and comfort, but as a photographer i find beauty in disruption — in the saint and feral sharing the same frame. i adore when art that makes people unsure of what they’re looking at.

[wh0reeee]

just noticed i accidentally tagged something "Robin Finch." wondered what that would look like. here ya go. america robins (little guy on the right) were the first bird i ever learned to identify. i don't think i've ever seen a finch irl but maybe

anyway yay robin finch

☆ #belladonnaspeaks i absolutely adore this, funny enough many of my close friends completely unaware of nin actually call robin “robin finch”.

i vividly remember viewing through the depths of flickr not so long ago, when someone with a genuinely brilliant mind made a picture collage of robin placed side by side next to a bunch of robin’s. it felt like a quiet joke not many would understand.

i never really learned to appreciate the beauty of birds. in my family, many women at a certain age find themselves bird watching, a sudden destiny to be bird watchers — but the first time i remember feeling that pull was as a child, after hearing eagle by ABBA for the first time and so desperately wanting to see one with my own eyes. robin ‘finch’ my beloved.

[wh0reeee]

If this is Robin, you’ve suddenly got competition