what to do when the clock just stops

inspiration blog for the temporary apocalypse

[loghomelove-deactivated20240923]

[elenamorelli]

{ that kind of mood }

[hotchkissapprentice]

went for a walk in the woods and found a spoopy abandoned graveyard 😲

[waitingforlions]

[lifeinpoetry]

[after a half-hearted suicide attempt at age 13] When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all? All you can imagine putting in your mouth is a cold plum, one with really tight skin on the outside but gum-shocking sweetness inside. And he and your mother discuss where he might find some this late in the season. Mother says hell I don’t know. Further north, I’d guess. The next morning, you wake up in your bed and sit up. Mother says, Pete, I think she’s up. He hollers in, You ready for breakfast, Pokey. Then he comes in grinning, still in his work clothes from the night before. He’s holding a farm bushel. The plums he empties onto the bed river toward you through folds in the quilt. If you stacked them up, they’d fill the deepest bin at the Piggly Wiggly. Damned if I didn’t get the urge to drive to Arkansas last night, he says. Your mother stands behind him saying he’s pure USDA crazy. Fort Smith, Arkansas. Found a roadside stand out there with a feller selling plums. And I says, Buddy, I got a little girl sick back in Texas. She’s got a hanker for plums and ain’t nothing else gonna do. It’s when you sink your teeth into the plum that you make a promise. The skin is still warm from riding in the sun in Daddy’s truck, and the nectar runs down your chin. And you snap out of it. Or are snapped out of it. Never again will you lay a hand against yourself, not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody-anybody-who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. So long as you bear the least nibblet of love for any other creature in this dark world, though in love portions are never stingy. There are no smidgens or pinches, only rolling abundance. That’s how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don’t earn it. It’s given.

Mary Karr, from Cherry

[scr33ncaps]

[waitingforlions]

scr33ncaps:

Elephant - Gus Van Sant (2003)

[nataliadrepina]

73 Day of Autumn. Thousands of black wings stretched over my head. Birds circling silently, then fell like a weak-willed stones to naked earth, then again soaring up, rushing to the dense heavy November clouds. Soon my rib vaults will face to the bottom of the abyss into which I stumbled. But while the winds plagued my fated body, I consider black birds remaining above me - they are the seeds of my sorrows, scattered around the world.

[newblogisjacindaelena]

  FatemehRgd

[moody-nature]

Untitled | By The Way I See It

[straig]

[waitingforlions]

Vintage and Nature

[ohcardigan]

[tangarang]

wh

[r2--d2]

[d-r-e-a-r-y]

[thedifferentstars]

[benchandcompass]

log hop.

[emmycrzenobia]

[refinedmind]

Just before nightfall I decided to take a walk outside. The sky was low, enveloping any object in its reach. It formed a dull, purplish haze - like nothing I’d seen before. The streets were empty. Not a single soul was out. It was oddly peaceful - imagining I was the only one left.