pink pony club full performance at grammys 2025
Acquired Stardust

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ellievsbear
Cosimo Galluzzi
noise dept.
One Nice Bug Per Day
Xuebing Du

Kiana Khansmith
NASA
cherry valley forever
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Keni
Monterey Bay Aquarium

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i don't do bad sauce passes
Today's Document
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YOU ARE THE REASON

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@cutetea
pink pony club full performance at grammys 2025

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31 days of Halloween movies 🎃🕷️🐈⬛👻
October 1st, Coraline 🪡🐈⬛🗝️🔮
Brandi Carlile @ Somerst Amphitheather 29/06/2013
Oh baby you’re soo hot!! <3
Tracy Chapman
absolutely obsessed with these three georgian girls called trio mandilli (source)

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not all of it is bad i think….…. we are going to be okay i think.
not all of it is bad i think….…. we are going to be okay i think.
A calm evening 🌇 !.
Utrecht, Netherlands.
Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger performing at the Music Inn in New York City, July 1950. This is believed to be Woody's last public performance before the Huntington's disease began to affect his behavior and ability to play and sing.
The World of Interiors, May 2019. Photo - Simon Brown

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Brandi Carlile's Mothership Weekend day 2
Happy Anniversary, Catradora!
@pscentral event 09: comfort → comfort movie: pride (2014) dir. matthew warchus
And why should gay people like me support the miners? Because miners dig for coal, which produces power, which allows gay people like you to dance to Bananarama till 3 o'clock in the morning.
maybe she's born with it, maybe it's adhd and lesbianism
"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"
my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?
for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.
some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.
some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.
i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.
you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.
i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.
i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!
just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.
because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!
Once, when I was still a very young writer, a friend of mine was doing me a favor and editing a piece for me. It was a short piece focused around the concepts of loss and re-connection, growth and separation and the pieces of yourself that are held inside of others. When my friend had finished her first read-through and was gathering her thoughts she called me and, completely breathless with excitement, said, "I love the way you structured this! The seasons changing with each new movement, the fact that each passage initiates a new physical aspect of the reunion- I just love that." It was all she could talk about for fifteen minutes. What beautiful motion I had created, how circular it made the whole piece feel. She was so excited that I couldn't bring myself to tell her that none of her favorite parts of the story were intentional. I didn't realize I'd done any of those things when I was writing it. But upon rereading for myself, I could see what she meant. The opening of a door, the crushed leaves of fall, the first step toward a new life. It was all lying in wait for me. I only needed another pair of eyes to show me the way. All of that to say that nothing is created in a vacuum, and the choices that we make are, in fact, choices- whether we realize we're making them or not. Life is collaborative, which means that art is, too. By default. The things that my friend saw in my art and in me changed my perception of my own piece and in this way, we made something together. That's how this is meant to go. All of us learning from one another collectively, changing each other on and on. Forever. Reading, as OP said, is a form of creation.

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he's the funniest person i know
People aren't made to work. we should just be hanging out