d e v o n
almost home
RMH
#extradirty
Andulka
Cosimo Galluzzi
dirt enthusiast
Sade Olutola
Origami Around
No title available
Not today Justin
h
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Mike Driver
$LAYYYTER
KIROKAZE
occasionally subtle
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
@theartofmadeline
seen from United States
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seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
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@wordsfirst
I say something about how clinical psychology forces everything we call love into the pathological or the delusional or the biologically explicable, that if what I was feeling wasn’t love then I am forced to admit I don’t know what love is, or, more simply, that I loved a bad man.
Maggie Nelson
I felt I was drawing close to that age, that place in life, where you realize one day what you’d told yourself was a Zen detachment turns out to be naked fear.
Roland Merullo
One Liners
Being counterintuitive is mostly about trust.
My hair has curled. My hair is curling. I need.
This is maybe the truest thing I have ever written. Only the other person in the bed has changed.
I always think I’m on page 73.
We are lucky to hope to do hard things.
There are a few too many relationships in my life currently where I keep thinking, “I wish you would just be mean to me. You’ve been indifferent, which stings with a kind of cruelty, but outright meanness would make this all much simpler.”
Known but unsure is a common feeling these days. How tender and scary that is.
Never again do I want to be drunk and underdressed holding on to some guy’s arm asking him if some girls somewhere were hot.
In 4th grade I refused to wear a dress so I was “The Captain” in our class play about the Oregon Trail. I wore jeans and a cowboy hat and had more lines than nearly anyone else.
I always read your horoscope first.
"I don’t like being called a lady writer, Norman."
She is sugar, curiosity, and rain.
E. Lockhart
If I am falling apart, it is with every falling hair, every fainting spell drenched in sweat, every night I go to sleep without brushing my teeth, every time I can't garner kindness, every time I beg of people unwilling to give, every time the anxiety sends me reeling to bed or food, every time I take the shorter path, every time I can't bear the friendship I need, deserve, and have to give, every time another piece of me disengages.
I am not editing by choice. I am editing by inertia.
Mirage
For as long as we have done this in secret, over the phone or in person, and I think we have different start dates for this, but lets say sometime in the fall of 2011, I’ve had practically nothing to lose and have said and done whatever I want to a much greater extent than I do with anyone else, often reminding myself of how little it all matters in the process, say it, who cares, do it, what could possibly hurt. And I have been free and sometimes crazy, sometimes easy, and sometimes strict and because I know that you do not treat me with nearly as much abandon, I’ve always kind of felt like I was flinging myself at a firm surface and I guess if you do that for long enough and no one flinches, if you linger and draw things out, these gestures of familiarity build, these imitations of care, and it starts to feel like you’re moving close to something or at least as close as I’ve ever approached, and yet.
July: Yeah, so what she’s talking about is if you’re a straight woman and you’re having a sexual fantasy where there’s a straight couple having sex, but you’re being the man fucking the woman. Dunham: You’re the man fucking the woman, and you’re fucking the woman the way that men who are in porn or men who are in frats would. You’re not fucking the woman as a nice cardigan’d gentleman. July: So you’re taking everything that has been sold to you and kind of accidentally being the wrong person in it. That, I guess, is how I feel about it. I feel like we all watch the same stuff. It all goes into our eyeballs. We’re all sold this kind of sex, and I don’t think that our psyches necessarily discern that much between the genders. I think in general the woman is the sexy one — the one you want to get. So if you’re just looking at it in that way, sex is fucking a woman. There isn’t any other sex. Dunham: And the person you’re watching experience all the pleasure, who gets to have the thing, is the guy. July: Yeah, so that’s the role you want to be in.
Miranda July and Lena Dunham in conversation at BAM January, 2015
Split
My dislike of my roommate has grown so intense, I’m worried it’s giving me an ulcer. This is my hypochondriac moment. This is where I believe she’s killing me. 3 more months. 3 more months of gurgling anger growing fiercely inside of me with practically no way out. Because no, we aren’t going to talk about it. I gave up any dreams of there being an understanding between us a long time ago. Obliviousness is the true plague of our generation. There is a type of person whose way of being in the world is so contrary to my own that I am incapable of fathoming how they survive. I am the uncompassionate one.
Valentino Pre-Fall 2015
A good way to keep track of whether a hook up happened or not is to accidentally leave an earring behind so just as the little boy in The Polar Express will always have and be able to hear the bell and remember his magical evening, you too will always be jolted back to your less than magical evening each time you go looking for the missing earring of that pair.
It only ever takes a lot of gin drank quickly to get the words out. To speak more than you listen. To miss the answers to your questions. To feel known and unsure.
Keeps
My body is a home I have not admitted to owning. My body is a home I have abandoned. My body is a home I don't recognize. My body is a home I don't remember visiting. My body is a home haphazardly built over many years without a blueprint. My body is a place. The place to go home to.
And Again
I am convincing myself to do more because it will embolden me and reassure me and help me find myself again. And when I say again, I mean find someone new because I'm not sure who she is or who she wants to be. I am certain I can keep myself. I can keep myself housed and fed and mildly entertained and the care and keeping of you is good and fine work, but it's time to ask for more. When it's time and when it's not time is not always clear, but in my constant accounting of things, I can say such a time was not grasped in the last few years. Doing just enough was grasped and held and succeeded. And what a joy it is to know that work; to be able to ask for more. I do not move quickly yet. I can't or don't want to. If i run, I will surely stop, but if I stand up and gaze out and make the bed and begin to walk, I may eventually enjoy the idea of running. I may eventually run. So I am setting goals. I am holding myself to a standard that does not feel innate in hopes that I'll find the drive again. And when I say again, I mean the girl was quite driven. I mean praise is a dangerous drug. I mean we know more this time. I mean such things do not have to be feared when they've been so absent. Here I go slowly, hopefully a little fearlessly, into the night and day and dusk and dawn. Here I tell myself I have to because I want to because I can.
She was a wicked thing sometimes. All full of want. As if the shape of the world depended on her mood. As if she were important.
Patrick Rothfuss
This is what depression has done:
Left me rattled and cautious still.
Left me rattled and cautious for so long.
Working on not starting so many sentences with “I’ve decided.” Like every thing I have to say is a declaration. Is conclusive. Has been pondered. Cannot falter.
