cherry valley forever
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Janaina Medeiros
noise dept.

Product Placement

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Andulka
Peter Solarz

pixel skylines
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Xuebing Du
d e v o n
KIROKAZE
Cosimo Galluzzi
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
ojovivo
Mike Driver

#extradirty
art blog(derogatory)


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@plantaodechorinhos

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JoĂŁo Pedro (01)
No sonho, tu me abraçou tĂŁo forte e por tanto tempo e eu tenho a sensação do teu cheiro como a pressĂŁo do abraço. Tu sorriu â e me parece tĂŁo urgente e tĂŁo importante dizer que tu sorriu pra mim, especificamente e especialmente (e a diferença parece importar) pra mim â e me abraçou tĂŁo forte que eu ainda consigo sentir mesmo horas depois de acordar. Eu nĂŁo lembro se antes ou depois conversamos com alguĂ©m sobre a maneira como tu... sobre a maneira como tu... eu nĂŁo sei se uso o eufemismo ou o termo em si... o que eu sinto e o que eu sei e o que eu sinto que sei Ă© que o que importa mais que tudo Ă© a maneira como tu sorriu (pra mim) e me abraçou (tĂŁo forte que eu ainda consigo sentir mesmo horas depois de acordar). Talvez, fosse a mensagem que tu queria passar. Eu ia dizer "a mensagem que tu queria deixar", mas, colocado dessa forma isso me parece tĂŁo final, e eu sinto (e sei e sinto que sei) que tu ainda vai vir me visitar muitas vezes â nos sonhos, como uma vez me disse que gostaria de fazer quando a distĂąncia entre nĂłs era meramente fĂsica â, e mesmo agora, hoje, eu te sinto tĂŁo aqui e tĂŁo feliz e nĂŁo posso deixar de me perguntar se a felicidade que eu sinto depois de semanas de desesperança quase cronificada Ă© por tua causa ou porque eu finalmente lembrei de reaplicar a vitamina B12 ontem. Obrigada, de qualquer forma. Eu sinto que a lista de coisas pelas quais sou grata a ti Ă© tĂŁo infinita e cada item se divide de maneira tĂŁo incalculĂĄvel que de qualquer forma eu... eu ia dizer "te devo agradecimentos", mas tu sempre me passou a sensação â e isso Ă© outra das coisas pelas quais sou tĂŁo, tĂŁo grata a ti: talvez a novidade dessa sensação â de que eu nĂŁo te devia nada. Obrigada, de qualquer forma. Eu acho que tu entende. Eu acho que a felicidade de hoje deve ser por causa da reaplicação da vitamina B12 e eu nĂŁo acho nada contraditĂłrio que eu tambĂ©m saiba que Ă© por tua causa. No sonho, eu nĂŁo lembro se antes ou depois de ti, de tu sorrir (pra mim) e me abraçar (tĂŁo forte), minha psicĂłloga tirou pra mim duas cartas de Tarot. Um bebĂȘ e uma mulher com um coração. Uma pesquisa muito rĂĄpida e pouquĂssimo instruĂda no Google fala que essas cartas falam de mudanças e novos começos e de força. Hoje, eu â que sempre me vi tĂŁo cĂ©tica â, escolho acreditar no sentimento que me fala desse nosso novo WhatsApp estranho.
Te amo, amigo. Obrigada por estar aqui comigo de tantas e tantas formas. Obrigada por afanar pedacinhos de informação das Fortunas â me conta uma hora como foi essa aventura. Vem me visitar sempre que quiser.
the use of AI lately has made me feel so hopeless, i translated pages of an unfinished fanzine of mine so i can remember why i love art...i hope it can resonate with anyone feeling the same way
this one. fuck this poem.
i wanted to share this not to come off as corrective but because i actually think it really adds to the text to know that not only is it not from a poem, but that thereâs a fuller version of this quote that is just as good. and itâs actually really good advice on how to a write emotion without becoming sentimental. james hall, the interviewer, is himself a poet worth looking into if youâre unfamiliar.
James Hall: I love that you risk sentimentality in the poems. Can you talk about how you construct a poemâs emotion without letting that emotion subsume the poem? What tools are available to a poet to mitigate emotion successfully?
Richard Siken: I didnât see it as risking anything, and I suppose the tool for mitigating emotion is undercutting, but Iâll try to answer the question sideways: Even if you donât believe in God, you have to believe in narrative. Things happen, one after another, world without end. Just because youâre self-aware doesnât mean you can change whatâs happening. Eventually someone is going to break your heart. Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: youâre falling to the floor crying thinking âI am falling to the floor cryingâ but thereâs an element of the ridiculous to itâyou knew it would happen and, even worse, while youâre on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didnât paint it very well and when youâre having sex with your next lover on this very floor they will also notice that you didnât paint it very well and they will think less of you for it. And then you think âIs that sentence too long?â And then you have to hold the  contradictions of sobbing uncontrollably and wondering about grammar in your head at the same time. I think if you are true to the entire experience, not just the sad part, you donât risk sentimentality because youâre not overloading the experience with fake, melodramatic feeling. I also hear that whispering helps.
hereâs to everyone who looked for this in crush and was confused because it isnât there. the original interview is kind of hard to source nowadays because of how often itâs misattributed: https://web.archive.org/web/20060501211545/http://www.gulfcoastmag.org/GCIssues/gc18.1%20folder/18.1%20Samples/18.1IntSiken(Hall).html

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People who perform manual labor should be not only given high and liveable wages, but unlimited access to healthcare and physical therapy to help manage the myriad conditions that come from doing back-breaking work.
Like this is not an absurd concept. It bothers me that people think that it is.
nicole II
jĂĄ fiz loucuras por amor mas que bom que contigo as loucuras, em vez de barganha, sĂŁo colaboraçÔes artĂsticas
accusations
you said you wouldn't be sorry about having an addiction how could it be fair, so, for me to be sorry for always having an escape route?
warning bites
my dog tried to bite me today a warning bite, as some call it while i was trying to help him free out of an estranged situation and although i was mad for a while as he curled himself up by my side i noticed we both have known dispair and we both know how it feels to have our bodies violated, our consent broken and the lengths we went and are capable of going to defend ourselves
Joy Sullivan, âAlmondsâ, Instructions for Traveling West
[ID: Black text over white background that says:
An Uber driver recently told me I'd be a good mother. I think it's because I involuntarily screamed when we almost hit a squirrel. That or I have the hips for it. The truth is, I don't know if I'd be a good mother. I worry that I love poetry too much. And sleep. And Paris. And how, right now, my body is still just my body-with no one else's footprint.
I heard once that ovaries are the size of almonds. Sometimes, when I see a man cradling a child, my almonds quiver. I imagine someone small of my own. I want to show her what a prism does after it swallows light. I want to feed her pears.
The thing about babies is that they're so irreversible. Tiny monsters of need. Each, a wound of love. Every day, I wrestle with the desire to give a child this world and an even stronger urge to save one from it.
My friend says biology is a bitch, which if you rhetorically analyze long enough-is so true, it hurts. Look up the word and there, on the page, you'll find the standard definition: a female dog, wolf, or fox. Read between the lines and you'll spot also-a woman, aching.
End ID].
Um motorista de Uber recentemente me disse que eu seria uma boa mĂŁe. Acho que Ă© porque eu gritei involuntariamente quando quase atropelamos um esquilo. Isso, ou eu ter os quadris necessĂĄrios. A verdade Ă© que eu nĂŁo sei se eu seria uma boa mĂŁe. Tenho medo de que eu ame demais poesia. E dormir. E Paris. E a maneira como, agora, meu corpo ainda Ă© somente meu â sem as pegadas de ninguĂ©m. Ouvi uma vez que ovĂĄrios sĂŁo do tamanho de amĂȘndoas. Ăs vezes, quando vejo um homem embalando uma criança, minhas amĂȘndoas estremecem. Imagino alguĂ©m pequeno e meu. Ela, a quem quero mostrar o que prismas fazem quando absorvem a luz. Ela, a quem quero dar peras. Mas o detalhe sobre bebĂȘs Ă© que eles sĂŁo tĂŁo irreversĂveis. Pequenos monstrinhos de necessidade. Cada um, uma ferida de amor. Todos os dias, luto com a vontade de oferecer este mundo a uma criança e com um desejo ainda mais forte de salvĂĄ-la do mundo.
Minha amiga diz que biologia Ă© uma cadela. O que, se vocĂȘ analisar retoricamente por tempo o suficiente, Ă© tĂŁo real que machuca. Procure a palavra "cadela" no dicionĂĄrio e lĂĄ, sobre a pĂĄgina, encontrarĂĄ a definição formal: uma fĂȘmea de cachorro, de lobo ou de raposa. Leia nas entrelinhas e encontrarĂĄ tambĂ©m uma mulher a sofrer. Tradução livre de âAlmondsâ, Joy Sullivan, encontrado em Instructions for Traveling West

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being alive is like,, being so full of love and so full of loss at the same time. a lot to carry around either way.
grief is so crazy like what if i forget what her laugh sounds like. does she know i loved her. i miss her so much. i catch myself doing things she used to do. i wish i could call her. i miss her so much. i do a crossword puzzle. i cry while washing the dishes. does she know i loved her? my heart feels like a hummingbird. i miss her so much. what if i forget what her laugh sounds like. what if i forget.
Women in Shakespeare
Also like to point out that when her mother says âI was your mother much upon these years that you are now a maid,â (translation: I had you when I was your age) you have to remember her fatherâs words: âearth hath swallowed all my hopes but she,â (translation: all the other children died.)Â The whole plot point of Juliet being an only child is explained by her mother being a Margaret Beaufort type who had her first child too young and it damaged her past the point of being able to bear more children.
Margaret Beaufort died in 1509. She was a major player in the Wars of the Roses, the swirling on-again-off-again civil wars that consumed England from 1455-1487. Romeo and Juliet was written and first performed in the early 1590s. Your average English person of Shakespeareâs day would probably have had at least a vague understanding of who she was and what happened to her, because she was a key figure in recent history and was still getting passed around as a cautionary tale.
There are two great problems with what happened to Margaret (and that her parents are trying to do to Juliet). One is easy for modern people to spot (but was also a common response back in her own day). And thatâs the moral implications of what was done to her. She was too young to be married, and it was horrifying that she was forced into it so young. Every one of the adults around her either acted immorally or failed to protect her. They were wrong. This is what modern people see, and itâs important to remember that people back in her day mostly agreed with it. Youâre supposed to think itâs fucked up! When girls were married that young (and it didnât happen often!) it was a formality 99% of the time. It was for dynastic or financial reasons (the girl has lots of money and/or land and/or a title that her husband wants), but the âcoupleâ donât consummate their marriage for years. And itâs not just that they would have separate bedrooms. They might not even live in the same country until the girl was in her late teens and physically and mentally mature enough to bear and raise kids. Hell, a lot of times they didnât even meet until the girl was older! They had this thing called âproxy marriageâ where you would have two separate ceremonies, in two separate places, with each party saying their vows separately, one in one city and the other in a different one. So, yeah, sure, the girl was technically married at 12, but she didnât actually meet her âhusbandâ in person until she was 17 and they didnât start sleeping together until she was 20. That was a thing they did.
The other problem, the one that modern people donât notice, is dynastic. See, marriage wasnât generally because you loved someone. It was because you had the resources to support a family, and you or your family wanted to pool those resources with someone. Itâs about âour family has these resources, and we want that to continue.â Itâs about continuity across generations. Itâs about making sure that your children and grandchildren have the best possible resources to survive and thrive, whether those resources are land or a trade or a title or money or whatever. In order for this to work, you have to have kids! The family and the familyâs resources depend on the married couple having children. If the couple doesnât have children, the marriage is a failure. And that failure affects not only the couple, but both families. This is a really big problem. And you canât have just one kid to pass on the family name, because half of all kids die in early childhood. If you want to be safe, you need several kids, to be sure at least one will survive to adulthood (when they can marry and pass on the family name and resources.
You know what happens when a girl has her first pregnancy too young? She is very likely to either die in childbirth, or have complications that destroy her future fertility. Just like Margaret Beaufort. Just like Julietâs mother. In other words, the marriage is a failure, not just for her, but also for her family, and her husband (who canât divorce her, itâs not allowed except in extremely rare circumstances), and her husbandâs family. So even the people who didnât have a moral problem with adult men having sex with pubescent girls had a practical problem with girls married too young because you are very likely to destroy the entire purpose of the marriage by doing it. As Shakespeare reminds us in the play through Julietâs mother having been married too young and only having one child.
Shakespeare is telling us âyeah, this is fucked up. but even if youâre the kind of awful person who doesnât think girls marrying too young is morally wrong, itâs also a problem for practical and dynastic reasons, donât forget that by doing this wrong thing you are very likely to destroy what you most want out of it.â
Interesting
It bears repeating:
donât forget that by doing this wrong thing you are very likely to destroy what you most want out of it.â
yes, excellent discussion!
another thing i noticed, the year my local community shakespeare theater did r&j, and i made the costumes so i got to watch the show every night: part of why capulet is telling paris, take your time, get to know each other, no rush, is that he still has his nephew tybalt as his heir. as long as tybalt is in the picture, there is no pressure on juliet to go further with paris, than get acquainted. once tybalt is killed, then suddenly capulet needs an heir, he needs a husband for juliet, now, this week. (the role of capulet is best given to the actor in the company that can do over the top apoplexy, you need to believe his urgency comes at least in part by how clearly he could drop dead any moment from giving himself a stroke)
i feel like this play is often taught in middle schools as if it was somehow relevant to, or about, teen hormone storms. really it's got more to do with the social structures around family and inheritance. leaving that context out makes it confusing, why is capulet suddenly flipping from nice dad to evil dad?
art history matters.
Querida Cleonice,
eu nĂŁo me lembro da primeira vez que nos vimos. Como poderia? Tu esteve presente desde muito antes de eu poder solidificar memĂłrias, desde muito antes de eu poder elaborar o que era "presença" â mas sinto que, muito graças a ti, eu pude desde cedo sentir o que era. E, apesar de tudo, graças a ti, eu tenho tantas memĂłrias coloridas: eu me lembro que foi contigo a primeira vez que comi carreteiro; lembro que tu parafraseava Hamlet pelo menos uma vez por semana â "hĂĄ algo de [estranho/errado/fedendo/diferente] no Reino da Dinamarca" â; que foi tu que me maquiou quando eu nĂŁo fazia ideia nem de por onde começar e que usou o melhor das tuas habilidades para fazĂȘ-lo sem "fazer primeiro a pele"; lembro que foi talvez a primeira pessoa em quem eu acreditei quando me disse que eu escrevia muito bem, um tanto porque senti que tu falou isso muito mais pra ti mesma do que pra mim, enquanto lia o meu tumblr; lembro que te deixei ler meu tumblr porque eu confiava em ti, porque me sentia vista por ti; eu sempre me senti absolutamente vista por ti; eu acho que vou lembrar pra sempre o caminho pra tua casa mesmo que eu nĂŁo lembre mais o caminho pra minha. Lembro que tu me cuidou e me acolheu. Lembro que tu foi uma das minhas primeiras amigas, e que me ensinou como havia uma certa grandiosidade no banal, que tu me deu tanto pelo que eu vou ser eternamente grata.
Eu me pergunto o quĂŁo diferente vai ser sentir tua falta agora do que vinha sendo na Ășltima dĂ©cada... sem poder sequer contemplar a ideia de te escrever uma mensagem ou uma carta, de te ligar quando queria lembrar daquela sensação de segurança e amabilidade que tu me passava. Eu me pergunto se tu sabia que eu queria ligar, mas nĂŁo sabia como. Eu espero que tu tenha sabido, eu espero que tu saiba. E eu espero que tu saiba que eu sinto muito porque queria poder ter te devolvido um pouco dessa sensação â essa, de segurança e amabilidade que tu me ensinou.
Eu lembro que, talvez por anos, teu status no MSN era uma citação do Alberto Caeiro. "Outras vezes oiço passar o vento, e acho que só para ouvir passar o vento vale a pena ter nascido". Quando eu ouvir o vento passar vou lembrar de ti, e vou saber que tu estå cuidando de mim.
Obrigada por isso. Obrigada por tudo.
Eu te amo, pra sempre.
Eu ainda sonho com vocĂȘ. Ăs vezes, eu acordo frustrada porque olhei seu Instagram depois de tanto tempo e somente pela tarde me dou conta de que sĂł fiz isso no sonho. Eu ainda sonho com a maneira que vocĂȘ a encontrou e a maneira como mentiu que nĂŁo significava nada. Com vocĂȘ dizendo pra ela, sobre mim, a mesma coisa. Eu queria que minha cabeça me desse um tempo e eu parei de escrever pra vocĂȘ ou olhar seu Instagram ou reler os seus poemas em uma tentativa de convencĂȘ-la a fazer isso. Mas eu ainda sonho com vocĂȘ.

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does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver
the reblog map is all of us holding hands btw
We are each other's night sky. No one is alone here.
Do One or More Then Reblog For Others:
Unclench your jaw.
Sit up straight...maybe stretch, too
Get something to drink (do it before hitting this button)
Get something to eat (anything. All food is good. Get it first.)
Take your meds (go take them before reblogging so you don't forget!)
Clean up the area around you real quick. You'll feel better.
Change the music to something you enjoy. You deserve to be happy.
Pause for a moment. You've been doing so much.
Just want to pass this on? That's okay, too.
Doing more than one? Choose whichever you found the most helpful. â€ïž