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@cloudqueen

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When summer evenings feel like this gif it’s beautiful and it’s worth it
file -> phrases that are going to shift something in me forever

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The first oyster.
“i was thinking about how i don’t actually have anything of my own that i can keep. i very luckily have some material things, but every material thing goes away eventually. they can get lost, broken, stolen or just deteriorate, including my body. once i die this will all become nothing. and i was thinking about what do i have that’s really actually mine? that can’t be taken away? and i know this is corny but this love that i feel in me, that i’ve created in me, that i’ve built in me, held on to—it’s mine for as long as i want it, for as long as i don’t give it up or let the world take it away from me. and i really do believe that to love is the best thing i ever did in my life. better than any song i've ever written, any achievement by far. to love is truly the best and most beautiful thing i ever did. and then as i was thinking about that, i started thinking about how sad it was that once i die, i couldn’t leave behind this most beautiful thing that i have. i guess it short of dies with me. so i wanted to write a song about how i wish that when i die i could at least leave all this love behind in the world.”
mitski explains her new song “my love mine all mine”
When summer evenings feel like this gif it’s beautiful and it’s worth it
Caitlyn Siehl

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© Bob Radlinski
Flower details
@dandelionsinthegarden
in almost every other children's book where the main heroine is swept away to a land of whimsy she's shown having a lovely time; braving dangers occasionally, trying to find her way home, sure, but ultimately delighting in the magic around her. meanwhile alice spends her entire time in wonderland like
look, here’s the thing: alice in wonderland’s enduring fucking charm is that it perfectly captures the vibe of being a very tired and annoyed child who is nonetheless required to play along with adult nonsense.
alice is dragged from place to place without warning, forced to play stupid games with no good prizes, grilled over her schooling and manners and recitation and dress, scolded, judged, insulted to her face, sent away, given gifts she didn’t ask for and doesn’t like, corrected incorrectly, been subject to shifting and arbitrary rules, and then when she gets snappish with all this bullshit everyone acts like a little girl’s temper is the end of the fucking world.
alice in wonderland isn’t a drug trip or a nightmare or a metaphor, that’s just what being ten years old is LIKE. that’s why kids love it so much. even if they can’t quite articulate how, they recognize themselves in it.
George Hillyard Swinstead (1905) The Angel’s Message

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What the Living Do, Marie Howe
Written for her brother, John Howe, who died of complications of AIDS
full poem:
Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up
waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of. It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through
the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off. For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,
I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,
I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it. Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.
What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss—we want more and more and then more of it.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep
for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless: I am living. I remember you.