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Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă
hello vonnie
dirt enthusiast
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NASA
trying on a metaphor
Jules of Nature
cherry valley forever

Kaledo Art
will byers stan first human second
almost home
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸

pixel skylines

oozey mess
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
noise dept.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
occasionally subtle
seen from Mexico
seen from Brazil
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Senegal
seen from United States
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seen from United States
@rysscandvs

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"SELFPORTRAIT". YEAR TWOTHOUSAND TWELVE.
First it was a mix of denial/anger,
It then became depression/doubt.
I guess now it is again denial with little touch of a numb depression and embellished with a comfortable âfuck offâ mood.Â
Right now everything just seems so pointless. I have no drive to do anything. Iâm barely moving. I donât know what to do with myself. I donât wanât to know if thereâs some mistakes in this text. Nor do I want to think about anything at all.Â
Not that bad for a first funeral.Â
One sensation strikes and then another; I am now devoured by flowers.
Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via theevildead-)

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DEAR LITTLE DO DOE: HELLO. I EXPECT YOU TO BE "FINE". I EXPECT YOU TO BE ALIVE & WELL. I HAVE NOT MOVED FROM WHERE YOU LEFT ME. EVERYTHING NEAR & AROUND HERE SEEMS TO GET GRADUALLY FASTER, BECAUSE I DO NOT MOVE; STATIC. I FEEL "HEAVY". AM I SICK? I EXPECT YOU TO BE "FINE". THERE IS NOTHING TO DO HERE, AND THERE ARE NO DODOS HERE YET. IT IS PROGRESSIVELY GETTING DIMMER HERE. IS IT PROGRESSIVELY GETTING BRIGHTER THERE? I EXPECT YOU TO BE ALIVE & WELL. I FEEL "HEAVY". I WISH TO SEE YOU SOON, AND LETS DO SOMETHING TOGETHER. DO NOT COME HERE; I WILL COME TO YOU WHEN I MOVE, THEN WE WILL DO SOMETHING TOGETHER. I EXPECT YOU TO NOT BE GETTING GRADUALLY FASTER ALSO, THAT WOULD MAKE ME OVERLY "SAD". HOW LONG ARE YOUR ANTLERS NOW? DO NOT POKE DODOS WITH THEM IF THEY ARE STILL SHORTER THAN YOUR HEAD. I WISH TO SEE YOU SOON.
âŹâŹâŹ MESSAGE FROM S TO DORYAN, CIRCA YEAR TWOTHOUSAND ONEHUNDRED NINETYTWO (2192). TWO YEARS BEFORE THE BEGINNING OF "THE GREAT DODO DEER WAR".
I like being alone.
I like drinking coffee alone, and reading alone.
I like riding the bus alone, and walking home alone.
It gives me time to think, and set my mind free.
I like eating alone, and listening to music alone.
But when I see a mother with her child;
A girl with her lover;
Or a friend laughing with their best friend;
I realize that even though I like being alone
I donât fancy being lonely.
I IMAGINE A WORLD WHERE EVERYONE LIVES IN "BRUTALIST" CASTLES.
âThe way in which [the internet] will dissolve boundaries is by making us transparent. To each other. I mean, I can imagine a child of the future, we all bring home our drawings to stick on refrigerators, and things like thatâin the future we wonât stick them on refrigerators, we will stick them in our website. And everything will go into our website. And by the time weâre 25, or something, our website will be the size of the American Museum of Natural History. And you can wander through it. And as a gesture of intimacy you can invite someone else to wander through it. Well thatâs who you areâitâs your imagination. And, I think, in a sense, Iâve said, at times, that: The cultural enterprise is an effort to turn ourselves inside out. We want to put the body into the imagination, and we want the imagination to replace the laws of physics. With these technologies we can probably do that. But itâll have to run on psychedelic design principles, or itâs certain to be a mess.â
Terence McKenna, 1995 (~1:42:20 re âEvolving Timesâ)

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I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds. I want to gaze with astonishment at mouldy garden fences. I want to experience them all, to hear young birch plantations and trembling leaves, to see light and sun, to enjoy wet green-blue valleys in the evening, to sense goldfish glinting, to see white clouds building up in the sky, to speak to flowers. I want to look intently at grasses and pink people and old venerable churches, to know what little cathedrals say, to run without stopping along curving meadowy slopes across vast plains, to kiss the earth and smell soft warm marshland flowers.
Egon Schiele, in a letter to Anton Peschka (via fernsandmoss)
Man who live in humble soviet home receives many letter one day. Are big letter, with much content within. Man open first letter and find capitalist propaganda, pictures of american tractors inside. He knows there is to be more picture in the other letter, so no need to open. He burn letters for warmth. Suddenly, man attacked from behind. Is soviet soldiers. Man did not distribute letters evenly among his peers for warmth from burn, so is executed. Such is life in Soviet Russia.
Iâm dead.
Iâm dead.
I canât stop laughing.
I canât breathe.
So dead.
(via communismkills)
Mother and father got a little tired from building Communism, so they want to go to Moscow to buy vodka. They call their most trusted babysitter.
When the babysitter arrives, children already sleep in beds. Babysitter just sits around and make sure everything good with children. Later that night, babysitter gets bored and goes to read Marx, but she canât read it downstairs because thereâs no electricity (the parents didnât want children reading Marx all night long).Â
So, she calls them and asks if she can get candles to read Marx in their room. Of course, the parents say itâs okay, but the babysitter has one final request⌠she asked if she could cover up the Lenin statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or cloth, because it makes her nervous.Â
The phone line is silent for a moment, and the father who says, âTake the children and get out of the house⌠we will call milita. We do not have an Lenin statue.âÂ
The militia found all three of the house occupants dead because KGB killed them for trying to cover Leninâs statue. And militia arrested parents for not having a Lenin statue.Â
Such is life in Moscow.Â
(via anti-statist)
One night, I am in bed, beating my wife, when phone ring. I beat phone, then pick it up. I hear voice. Voice says âWhat you do with my daughter?!â
I turn to wife and demand to know why her father interrupt me beating her. But she say, her father is dead! Then, KGB break into house and arrest me for illegal possession of phone.
Such is life in Moscow.
(via communismkills)
In Russia, coffin has pipe for air, and bell with string. If man is true Soviet, he does not die. When buried, yells for undertaker and rings bell. Bell rings. Is no wind. Undertaker asks â âAre you lady Gorbochev?â Voice says âYes!â âBorn winter of 1927?â âYes!â âGravestone says âDied 20 February, 1957â âNyet, am still living!â âAm sorry, but is August. In June, ground will thaw. You must wait for June.â And woman is true Soviet, waits for June.Â
(via anti-statist)
Toys are made by loyal factory for amusement of the children of the motherland.
Toys are of baby, and have realistic crying function.
Soon, it becomes difficult to distinguish baby and toy.
Both are burned for warmth.
Such is life in mother Russia.
(via communismkills)
In addition to the imperatives of service and responsibility, Stauffenbergâs sense of his own aristocracy involved a distinctive awareness of his relationship to the past. This can best be understood through an essay, published in 1936, by Thomas Mann, who described what he called âmythic consciousnessâ, a particular kind of mentality whereby certain individuals defined themselves. The ego of antiquity and its consciousness of itself were different from our own, less exclusive, less sharply defined. It was, as it were, open behind; it received much from the past and by repeating it gave it presentness again. When confronted by a crisis, the leader of antiquity âsearched the past for a pattern into which he might slipâ. Once mantled with such a precedent, tested and validated by history, tradition and his own ancestry, he might confront the present situation, not nakedly, so to speak, or alone, but from within a time-hallowed context. âThus his life was in a sense a re-animation, an archaizing attitude. But it is just this life as re-animation that is the life as myth.â Alexander, Mann explains, saw himself as walking, quite consciously, âin the footsteps of Miltiadesâ, the Greek commander against the Persians at the Battle of Marathon. Caesar identified himself similarly with Alexander. âBut such âimitationâ meant far more than we mean by that word today. It was a mythical identificationâŚâ And while it was characteristic of antiquity, â⌠it is operative far into modern times, and at all times psychically possible.â [âŚ] Mann concludes: Life then - at any rate, significant life - was in ancient times the reconstitution of the myth in flesh and blood; it referred to and appealed to the myth; only through it, through reference to the past, could it approve itself as genuine and significant. The myth is the legitimization of life; only through and in it does life find self-awareness, sanction, consecration. _____________________________________________________________ â Michael Baigent, Secret Germany
The basic doctrine of Fascism is not the elimination of the individual, so much as the fusion of the individual in something far greater than himself.
Sir Oswald Mosley (via above-time)

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