#modernmythnet

[bunnycorcorans]

For those of you still interested in mythology, a quite comprehensive thesis on it was recently made available for download [here]. 

Also, check out The Aswang Project for more articles!

[impressionistes]

My dad took these a couple years ago.

[impressionistes]

[Space Song plays on lo-fi speakers]

[impressionistes]

TIME’S GONE. (a mix by impressionistes) - For the lemonade-stand summer days ahead of us and all the time going, gone by your side.

(+LISTEN)

[impressionistes]

[FAVORITE WORKS IN ART HISTORY] The Altar of Zeus at Pergamon

Unknown artist. White marble. Pergamon Museum. Berlin, Germany. Reconstructed west front of the Altar of Zeus. Featuring a 70 foot long staircase and peristyle colonnade in the Ionic order. The Altar’s formidable size does not take away from it’s extreme attention to detail. Following the trends of the Hellenistic period, dramatic expressions and extreme naturalism is seen in the high relief narrative frieze wrapping around the entire building. The frieze depicts the Gigantomachy to symbolically allude to the Greek Victory over the Gauls. 

[intrawars]

Gospels 4:9 Fix broken nights with water: Water, to drown out the whiskey you’ve been sipping dearest,  too far gone without your Smiles, without our little fingers hooked together. I’ve been missing the moon. That hollow Crescent of your soft throat, I’ve been missing. Gospels 4:10 I push pen to paper, harder, harder Begging all the words to spill just like they used to - how can I have so much to say and not know what to say - (Should I tell you ?) - I’ve marked our sacred book lovingly annotated, turn the pages, please. You’ve always been the softest part of me Turn the page I miss you. No, no that’s not just it. I love you. God no, you’ve heard that a thousand times. How about, The rain falls in the midwest somewhere where a wheat field stretches, rippling in the wind like waves on that open sea. And grain by grain we come alive again. How about, The ocean begs for another inch, so slowly I’m giving myself to salt -  all the blood, sweat, tears. The moon still turns, the sun still burns, the shadow falls between the stopped clocks all over city, the ticking stops. How about, The air in my throat expands until doesn’t feel like breathing, it feels more like drowning. My ribs are cracked wide open, all of them, all, a chest growing wildflowers. Does anyone see that? I’m sitting at a coffee shop, untouched cappuccino, bone dry. And here my chest, it spills wildflowers (can’t you see?) 9 weeks starts to look like the barrel of a gun and you say, “Put the safety on.”

KelleyAnn Elyse, I Don’t Know What to Say Anymore

[buckying]

Can someone just date me or adopt me already