Little Talks

pink nosed angel

How she switched that dialect back and forth tho 😍

I heard about 4 different people and loved every one of them

I’m always a slut for libraries with beautiful architecture

as a general rule. if what we’re calling ‘cultural appropriation’ sounds like nazi ideology (i.e. ‘white people should only do white people things and black people should only do black people things’) with progressive language, we are performing a very very poor application of what ‘cultural appropriation’ means. this is troublingly popular in the blogosphere right now and i think we all need to be more critical of what it is we may be saying or implying, even unintentionally.

this is a good post.

Thank you, I was trying to sort this out in my head but you explained it very well.

#free exchange of culture is great - taking that culture without invite and pretending yours is an original take#(worse still profiting off it)#is cultural appropriation (by @gnimaerd)

Suddenly you’re 21 and you’re screaming along in your car to all the songs you used to listen to when you were sad in middle school and everything is different but everything is good

this post keeps me going

i saw a post that said “when you hear Vincent Van Gogh, do you think of starry night or bloody ear?” and all i could think about was his sunflowers and how his memorial is sunflowers and fields of them and how you can go and pick as many as you want and how he was barely holding on but painting was his way to cope and he was such a deeply sad man and still his paintings were beautiful and filled w bright colors and life and happiness and if that’s not proof that the things you love truly can keep you going (even if it’s not forever) then i don’t know what is cause yeah yanno maybe he cut off his ear but he found a way to make his pain beautiful and he was constantly looking for a way to hang on and i think that’s proof that as humans our nature is to fight cause we have that fight or flight mode right and he was so low that he tried eating yellow paint to make him happy inside and i really wonder what he would be like if he was alive now?? like would he still paint as beautiful? would his pain still be as unbearable as it was to him??? would he have cut off his ear?? maybe he would have made person the thing that wills him to hold on, instead of eating paint chips or painting. and i think that’s just proof that we all have more fight in us than we think we do because he thought eating yellow paint and cutting off his ear was his lowest point, and maybe it was, but the very thought of him eating yellow paint made him survive and kept him going for just a while longer and maybe it wasn’t forever but sometimes the things we find solace and consolation in, keep us alive for longer than we thought was even possible, and i think we all have our yellow paints and things we do to help us survive even if they’re odd, or make no sense, or end up hurting us even more and i think he’s a pretty fuckin rockin man and i wish everyone would have loved and appreciated him more because his paintings (and just him in general) is deadass proof that when things are shitty and you’re at rock bottom, sometimes all you can do is slap a paint brush against paper and hope for something prettier than your chaotic mind. or write and write and write until your hand cramps and hope to silence your thoughts. or sing, or dance, or run, or call someone, or simply confide in a person who’s hand is outstretched and waiting for you to take it. and i think that’s good, i think we all have our yellow paints and sunflowers and starry nights. i think beauty comes from all things painful (not to romanticize anything because self destruction is not beautiful but the strength you gain from getting over it is) and anyways, i hope you find your yellow paint and i hope it keeps you alive. i hope you allow sunflowers to bloom from your lungs and i hope you allow yourself room to breathe and grow and become the artist (in any way you express yourself) that you’re meant to be.

thanks elevators for bringing me up when i was down

Have you ever really thought about how when you look at the moon, it’s the same moon Shakespeare and Marie Antoinette and Van Gogh and Cleopatra looked at.