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slightly revived by going outside and looking at my plants for a while. i saw so many new bugs including the prettiest beetle. it was so shiny it looked like a brass bead

PRESS Ⓐ TO BE WEIRD AND UNSETTLING

PRESS Ⓑ TO BE WANTED AND LOVED

PRESS Ⓧ TO RELEASE YOUR INHIBITIONS

PRESS Ⓨ TO FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN

it’s small joys saturday y’all let’s get it

i am massively overdue for a very very good week where not a single bad thing happens and everything is easy

reblog to give prev a very good week where not a single bad thing happens and everything is easy

I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture. All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line? The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy? Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess. I want the fat left it. I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence. Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."

it’s always summer v winter bitches fighting for their life, where are the spring/autumn girlies, the moderate temperatures crowd, the transition period aficionados, the ‘sun is shining but the wind’s cold’ connoisseurs, the ‘decay and rebirth of nature’ devotees

you relapsed on yearning again didn’t you