Living Life in Golden Hues

Welcome to my brain dump.My name's Greta, I'm 21, I go to the University of Minnesota - Twin Cities, and I'd love to chat with you.Sometimes I hang out over here, too:http://thatgretagirl.tumblr.com

[takingthebackroads]

Boy, do we need to talk but boy, we shouldn’t have.

where do I begin this story?

12 months of kissing a ghost goodnight with a well wish, a compliment, a formulaic I’m-missing-this

a curve here, a whistle there,  the bell of bottoms,  bows on little underwear, sweet skinny lips, on sweet  skinny hips delivered in packages marked a “new message” is here.

and all the support in the world, from an ocean away.  a few hours a day.  bedtime before dinner,  because of staggered days.

if I lay here and sigh,  looking at your portrait tonight, with your favorite things glowing under my candle’s light--  is this a moment or a  mausoleum? a memory or a  memorial? A sanctuary or a  shrine?

[takingthebackroads]

Father, I’ve tried to write it into poems. Mother, I’ve tried to sing it into ohms.  Lover, I’ve tried to let it die. Lady, I’ve tried stay without him by my side.

Call to a ghost in the night,  and if he stops by -- 

He’ll kiss your chilly fingers Without a trace of lovely lingers But you’ll love him in the moment he arrives. 

He’ll sing you stories across the veil, those little heart beat bumping tales, and all your prayers will ask for this to survive. 

He’ll call your name along the wind and even in your darkest sins  you’ll know that it’s the sound of love outside

Know that you’ll love him deeply All his little ghostly greetings and his white-cold-small-affections in the night. 

But the other side will hold him Feed him, carry him, and own him and your ghostly love with never feel quite right. 

[takingthebackroads]

I feel this.

[takingthebackroads]

Love a ghost.

In the moments he’s away- you’ll dream of your forever and wonder how close to that petit mort you need to come  to feel his warmth. 

Love a ghost. 

Feel yourself transfer his affection via spine-chill-misdirection  to your aching fingertips that want to feel that valleys of his 

spine his mind his everything-tucked-up-inside

and Love a ghost. 

Write him love notes over  prayer candles. Ask for forgiveness, survival and  change. 

Ask for a pass across the veil,  ask for a plane ticket,  ask for a moment, ask for assurance, ask for sustenance,  ask for faith,  ask for faithfulness- ask for trust,  ask for us. 

Love a ghost upside down, inside out, and sideways.

Ask if the white shadow on the lake is the light of his eyes, Ask if the moon looks nice from his  perch in the stars tonight Ask for one more hour of his time before the sun rises, and ask, darling, ask,  for one more kiss before midnight. 

Love a ghost-- 

So that you learn to feel  his love in the cars that pass by,  in the street light flicker that says the dead have stopped by--  learn to read the signs.

And then learn  that sometimes lovers lie,  But you can still learn the whistle of the skies, and the value of the body- Flesh and Mind.  And what it’s like to Love of a ghost who never said he could do anything more than pass by. 

[takingthebackroads]

In this body that is my home, I walk the hallways of my hollow bones And hear the echoes of my toes Against the walls of my marrow throne That shadow falling low along The porous walls of this bone home, Shows my face as mapped against The dark walls of my best intents I climb down the ladder of my spine To reach the rattling ribs entwined To hold my heavy lungs inside and teach my heart to hold her pride Against my ribs the heart beat batters Changing to uncertain patterns, I know this sign of labors lost Means ugly things at ugly costs And in my fingers gitters linger, As muscles pull the boney levers That carry all my words to paper and Hold the sweaty hands of strangers But I have hallow, upwards bones that Drip my sins down to my toes And in my feet I feel their vapors Carrying my heart's fraught labors Of all the times I cried "be true!" And left my soul shadowed as I spoke to you

[takingthebackroads]

My muse and I are Staring at each other Across the kitchen table Like begrudging lovers.

She wants me to talk, Dig deep, Explore what’s been bothering me.

Write about empty inboxes, Cover charges, Little blue boxes, And that vacuuming sense of being Drained out of yourself by your toes–

But I have my jawline clenched. Arms crossed against my fluttering heart, Caging it away from the page, And my feet planted firmly on the ground.

[eldigostudios]

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Can’t Help Falling In Love With You (Cover) - Fleet Foxes 

“Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin?

But I can’t help falling in love with you…”

[forgetmeparanoia]

I think one of the kindest things you can do for yourself as an artist is to accept that you will make bad drawings sometimes and just…stop caring about it. It’s not like that bad sketch you drew was your one and only chance to ever draw the thing. It’s so much easier emotionally to just say “lol what is that?” delete it and start over than it is to spend the next six hours crying about it. Once you stop treating every single thing you draw as something precious and learn to just throw stuff away it takes so much stress away. One bad drawing doesn’t make you a bad artist, or a fraud. Even the best pro artists are gonna have moments where they draw things wrong. You’re going to make bad drawings so just go out there and make them so you can move on with your life. Chances are your second attempt will be better. 

[takingthebackroads]

Happy Mother's Day to the most supportive, nurturing, hilarious, force of nature in the world! I don't know what I would do without you in my corner! Love you to the moon and back, mama! 💞💗🎀

[takingthebackroads]

Goin' hard in the paint! 🙌🌺 (at East River Flats Park)

[takingthebackroads]

James Baldwin in his debate against William F. Buckley Jr. discussing racism, the way we relate to one another and the world, and the American Dream. 

[yeoja]

im crying… 

[donanananana-deactivated2018012]

Literally

[keepcalmcarryonbabe]

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[artspaceavailable]

Plug your headphones in, and float away to this beautiful sound

It’s true

[takingthebackroads]

Set the scene, right?

-a cross Atlantic romantic… Duty free & sexy-

If I send you little portraits, Can I capture them “Ceci n’est pas une Greta” ?

Let me explain this to you —

I’ve been caressing emotional attachment like Carpet burn Seeing if I can provoke myself Into reaction

I don’t like to do anything but Fly high above my little emotion houses And watch them disappear under the sky

Unless suddenly that gem in i Glitters just the right way for me To see the value in the dirty darlings And has me knocking on doors I haven’t looked at Properly Since I was seventeen

What I mean! to say is, What I’m going! to say is, What I’m trying! to say is,

Once upon a time I walked a fine line Between neurotic high strung independence and a cold bed And I’ve been slingshotted off my high-wire into this land of,

Won’t… You…come stay in bed … With? Me?

The rub is in that hormonal harmony Distanced by seven hours and an ocean of insincerity Which allows me to be bolder, brighter, balanced, better

And left wondering about My infinite little reality.

[takingthebackroads]

If I Ain't Got You, covered by the ever-wonderful Julia Nunes 

[takingthebackroads]

supposed to be getting ready for a party but i'm not feeling it so instead I am listening to moody music and contemplating my hair situation. 

[takingthebackroads]

midnight snow in the city:

the sky swept the moon and stars aside

and swam low to hug the shining lights

floating winter kisses,

down to the people walking home outside