(Amstell, Benjamin)

JVL
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me


Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
art blog(derogatory)

Origami Around
occasionally subtle

@theartofmadeline
will byers stan first human second
Stranger Things
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

if i look back, i am lost
Jules of Nature

Discoholic 🪩
Today's Document

tannertan36
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@indikatorok
(Amstell, Benjamin)

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David Hockney
On Princess Carolyn’s bookshelf:
A Tale of Two Kittens
Me Meow Pretty One Day
Romeow and Juliet
Purrity - Johnathan Franzen
Purrmese Days
Consider The Lobster - David Foster Wallace
The Big Book of Pajamas
The Color Purrple
Purrsepolis
https://www.reddit.com/r/BoJackHorseman/comments/4ud74q/the_books_on_princess_carolines_bookshelf/
Reddit link explaining the books
Kaveh Maghsoudi photography

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My entire life condensed into one sentence.
Salman Toor - Downtown Boys
Zhenya Katava & Neus Bermejo V #119 (2019) ph. Gus & Lo
Siófok II, 2017 | by Marietta Varga
John Ashbery: Film noir
A zsalugáter árnyéka a festett falon,
Az anyósnyelv és a kaktuszok árnya, gipszállatok,
A fénylő tekintet tragikus melankóliája
A semmibe fókuszál, űrbéli fekete lyukakhoz fogható lyukba.
Melltartóban és bugyiban az ablakhoz oson:
Takk! Nyílnak a zsalu lécei. Törékeny utcai jelenet kínálja magát,
Ostyavékony járókelők, akik tudják, merre tartanak.
A zsalugáter csukódik, lécei lassan összezárulnak.
Miért kell mindig így véget érnie?
Emelvény olvasó nővel, haja kócosságával,
És az elmondhatatlannal, mi vonz benne, vele
A csönd mélyére, amelyre az éj magában nem magyarázat.
A könyvtár csöndje, a telefon nyomógombjainak hallgatása,
De ezeket sem kell újra kitalálnunk:
Eltűntek mind egy történet cselekményében,
A „művészi” részben – tudva, melyik fontos részletet kell elhallgatni,
Vagy hogyan kell egy karaktert felépíteni. Túl valóságosak a dolgok,
Hogy kételkedni kezdjünk, bár kimódoltak, mégis velük van tele a lap,
A belső a külsővel részeddé válik,
Mikor rájössz, sosem szűntél a halálon kacagni,
A háttérben sötét szőlőtőkék a veranda szélén.

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Medea.
Suitcase, Photo by Holly Andres, 2012
Bonedog by Eva H.D.
Coming home is terrible
whether the dogs lick your face or not;
whether you have a wife
or just a wife-shaped loneliness waiting for you.
Coming home is terribly lonely,
so that you think
of the oppressive barometric pressure
back where you have just come from
with fondness,
because everything’s worse
once you’re home.
You think of the vermin
clinging to the grass stalks,
long hours on the road,
roadside assistance and ice creams,
and the peculiar shapes of
certain clouds and silences
with longing because you did not want to return.
Coming home is
just awful.
And the home-style silences and clouds
contribute to nothing
but the general malaise.
Clouds, such as they are,
are in fact suspect,
and made from a different material
than those you left behind.
You yourself were cut
from a different cloudy cloth,
returned,
remaindered,
ill-met by moonlight,
unhappy to be back,
slack in all the wrong spots,
seamy suit of clothes
dishrag-ratty, worn.
You return home
moon-landed, foreign;
the Earth’s gravitational pull
an effort now redoubled,
dragging your shoelaces loose
and your shoulders
etching deeper the stanza
of worry on your forehead.
You return home deepened,
a parched well linked to tomorrow
by a frail strand of…
Anyway
You sigh into the onslaught of identical days.
One might as well, at a time…
Well…
Anyway…
You’re back.
The sun goes up and down
like a tired whore,
the weather immobile
like a broken limb
while you just keep getting older.
Nothing moves but
the shifting tides of salt in your body.
Your vision blears.
You carry your weather with you,
the big blue whale,
a skeletal darkness.
You come back
with X-ray vision.
Your eyes have become a hunger.
You come home with your mutant gifts
to a house of bone.
Everything you see now,
all of it:
bone.
First grader came back from her first day at school.
Life happens.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Jacob Lawrence, The Music Lesson, from the Harlem series, 1943
Yana Charnava: Belarusian Venus