Eating Hummus Is Considered Dope Shit In 2023
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The Stonewall Inn
EXPECTATIONS
$LAYYYTER
todays bird
Claire Keane
occasionally subtle

oozey mess

tannertan36
YOU ARE THE REASON
Xuebing Du
Noah Kahan

roma★
hello vonnie

Product Placement
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
🪼
★
Doug Jones
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@hummus-enjoyer
Eating Hummus Is Considered Dope Shit In 2023

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its funny who you let into your life, who you choose to share a bed with, who you allow yourself to fall asleep next to. only the person you fall asleep with can tell you about this side of yourself, your sleep self; a nakedness more vulnerable than nudity. i would wake my ex with the sound of my teeth gnashinggnawinggrinding themselves into a fine powder. they said it sounded like knives carving into metal. I shared my bed with someone who didnt have one, an evil man who i could have loved. he told me i talked in my sleep, reported back to me what i wouldnt admit in the daylight. I shared a bed with a friend once, dog tired and miles away from home. i loved him, too, quietly. of course, he didnt know that. we woke up in the exact positions we fell asleep in, ten inches apart. i had the best nap of my life while getting an MRI. i awoke wishing more of life was like this, i rest while the machine and the people in lab coats figure out whats wrong with me.
Josh Keyes.
"Inside Out / outside in". 2024
Acrylic on canvas.
Moments in Nature
sometimes I think about my brother's childhood friend. she one of the sweetest kindest most compassionate people I know. her mother died when she was 12, but she was kind sweet and compassionate before this too. it was around december, around christmas, around her birthday. she found her mother on the floor with blue lips, i saw the text she sent to my brother. we live at the edge of new hampshire, the edge of civilization, but not close enough; it was an overdose. my mother made her a new room when she moved in with her dad.
anyway, she is in college now, studying to be a nurse. her music taste is the raunchiest most aggressive trap music you have ever heard and it rocks. i think about this a lot. the rage in trap music the rage in this small white girl. i wish her the best always and she, if anything, proves that my brother is at least a little decent.

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life update. i like hummus. hope you are well
Coach interior, 1900. From the Budapest Municipal Photography Company archive.
Edward Rice
Utagawa Hiroshige’s Kitsunebi on New Year’s Night Under the Enoki Tree near Ōji, 1857
a gentle melancholy song. hope you like it, tumblr dears. lyrics:
I knew all the things I wanted to do Came prepared to play And then I met you You might say i got lost that day oh i got lost, in a wonderful way
i'd seen skies of a pretty orange-pink hue that color had no name no name i knew until the day we met and then i knew that was the color the color of you
the color of you, and all hopeful souls oh, my dear what a mournful glow
like the tides your kind they come and go but always with that same pretty orange-pink glow.
oh my dear what a mournful soul

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Small thing that breaks my heart:
When I was in third grade, I told this boy that it would be my birthday in four days, and he said, “okay, then I’ll buy you flowers.” Four days later he comes up to me and says, “my mom wouldn’t let me get flowers but I found you this violet in the grass.” That in and of itself was iconic and so so sweet, but it gets better.
A month later, I had to move, and because it was third grade, the teacher made everyone write me letters to say goodbye. His said, “I hope you have so much fun in your new house that you forget about me. I hope that you’re always happy and you never miss us. I’m sorry I never gave you flowers, but I can give you some now.” And he fucking. Drew me flowers.
No, Joey, I never forgot you. You are the reason I have standards in this life, and I’m so grateful to have known you. I hope you’re happy, wherever you are, and I hope that the rest of your days are filled with as much joy as you gave to me. I spilled water on the card about five years ago, and half of it is a a jumbled mess now, but I still have it. It’s the only card I still have.
The funny thing is this dude and I hardly ever interacted. I knew he played football because he was on the town’s kids’ team and my brother was on the middle school team, and I knew he was one of, like, three Joeys in our year. I had a crush on him but obviously never communicated that because it was fucking third grade, but somehow those three interactions imprinted on who I am as a person. I am forever changed by Joey from third grade.
Leucistic Coyote in Falmouth, Virginia [x]
“I guess I’m trying to say, grab anything that goes by. It may not come around again.”
— John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent (via surqrised)
david van dartel
"To sit like this...", Hovhannes Grigoryan (translated by Tathev Simonyan)

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Devin Lunsford