Marilyn Monroe photographed by Andre de Dienes in Malibu, 1949.
DEAR READER
Not today Justin

⁂

JVL
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
will byers stan first human second
Xuebing Du
Stranger Things
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
wallacepolsom
occasionally subtle

Janaina Medeiros
Misplaced Lens Cap

if i look back, i am lost
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
noise dept.

sheepfilms

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@thesummertimeproject
Marilyn Monroe photographed by Andre de Dienes in Malibu, 1949.

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Loaded up and ready to hit the road.
California
1959
“June has a crush on a girl. June welcomes the warmer summer days and wrings out her clothes from the rain. She feeds her plants and sets them out by an open window. The sun is coming out now, the nights are so much shorter. June knows her time is coming, like it’s her name running across the cities’ marquees. She picks out a white linen dress and dances under a pink sky. It’s June, the month of tie-dyed shirts and braided hair. It’s June, and the nights are begging for fireworks. It’s June, and as she closes her eyes, she kisses a girl so softly.”
— Schuyler Peck, A Month of First Crushes (Month Poems)
They make me sick btw

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Camden House - Martijn Hesseling , 2025.
Dutch , b. 1971 -
Newspaper with industrial lacquer on plexiglass , 105 x 138 cm.
Framed
You should automatically get time off work until the light returns to your eyes and you feel like a real person again
Yale Joel, “Public High School, U.S.A.,” Life, Dec 15, 1953
I feel so many feelings about Rocky during the first contact. He wants to connect SO BADLY. Do Eridians have horror stories about scary aliens? If they do, Rocky doesn't care. He wants this alien to be friendly. He does everything he can to accommodate. Here, a little gift I'm sending your way at the speed you're comfortable with. Please be there. Here, the next gift is going right into your airlock so that it's easier for you to catch. Please don't fly away. You made a strange gesture with your limb, I'll make my robot make that gesture back. Please belive that I'm friendly. Here's a tunnel to connect us, I'll make sure you can breathe in it. Please come meet me. I'll let you choose the material for the wall separating us; I'll rebuild the whole wall if it makes you more comfortable, no trouble, just please let's talk. You're all alone on your ship, I can hear it, please come sleep here where I can watch you, it's unsafe for you to be alone. I'm alone and scared, it's been 46 years since I felt safe while sleeping, please please please watch me sleep too. I'm very vulnerable when I sleep and I trust that you won't use it against me. I want to visit your ship, am allowed, question? I'm moving in with you. Let's save the stars.
Margareta von Österreich-Toskana. Blue iris in the castle park of Archduke Karl Stephan in Veli Lošinj, 1913.

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Rosa Gallica - Mary Delany - 1782 - via The British Museum
Mary Delany (England 1700-1788) Rosa Gallic (1782) collage of colored papers with bodycolor and watercolor on black ink background
Margit Varga, Road Repairing, Lower Manhattan at Night, 1934. Oil on Masonite.
The art critic for The Philadelphia Inquirer commented favorably on an exhibition of the artist’s New York paintings: “Margit Varga’s oils, now in the larger of the two galleries on the first floor of the Art Alliance, reveal that not too frequent ability to take familiar, seemingly commonplace city sights and transform them by imaginative magic into pictures which enchant the eye and cause those of casual minds to wonder why they too did not discover a bit of all this beauty.”
Photo: 1st Dibs
beautiful mother soap dispenser just gave birth to a baby foam in my hand
The deep grief of being a student of Ryland Grace and learning that he has gone on the mission. You are excited because he said the best minds were on it and, well, he's the smartest guy you know! And then you hear that he's not coming back in time for the school year. Or the next. Or the next. Or, well, at all.
Everyone finds out differently. Some are religiously reading everything about the mission and go still in the darkness of their beds, phone glowing in front of their face. Some of them get sat down gently by their parents, maybe even with a counselor or therapist, to explain what's happening. Still more feel like a bolt of lightning has hit them when their friends whisper the news in class.
Undeniably -- and many of them try -- the fact that haunts them is that he went up for them. For their future. For everybody's future, some manage to rationalize, but those who think too hard cannot ignore it. Not for any faceless group of children -- their names and faces and laughs and questions must have been on his mind when he said yes.
It becomes a solid weight between them all. Ex students of his feel it too. If you know someone used to know and love Dr. Ryland Grace, you drop everything to help them when they fall, even if it's just a silent hand. The older students in particular latch onto the class he disappeared on, becoming fiercely protective. New kinship is formed. When they're old enough (even 16, if their parents relent), many of them get tattoos to remember him, even as they're covered up by the increasing layers they need to go outside. A beanie ball of the Earth. Laika the dog. His glasses. The date he left. Sometimes, just a red Petrova Line.
The first year that ex students of his graduate high school, he's mentioned in the Valedictorian's speech. She wasn't even a student of his, but she's grateful that he saved her best friend's life with his care and compassion. She says she hopes that his dreams are sweet. Ryland Grace hasn't even woken up yet.
When his class graduates, there's a seat saved for him in the teacher's row. The principal, throat thick, says that Dr. Grace would be proud of all of them. People leave flowers on the seat and his students get a special tassel.
Babies start being named after him, this time by people who actually knew him. Grief doesn't fade, but the space it occupies gets smaller, turns into an extra jolt of pain when they look up at the darkening sun and know that someone very smart is up there, trying to fix it.
On his "wake-up" day, a bunch of them get together again. They forget old grievances and brush past the awkwardness that time has grown. They show how their tattoos look now. They tell stories and try to guess what alarm clock music he would pick. They try to think of how he'd react to their lives. Many of them are teachers now. One of them has a framed selfie of them on their desk. They laugh about how embarassed he'd pretend to be while being deeply touched.
Eventually, eventually, they see his face again. It's so odd -- they have grown and loved and lost and yet he looks exactly the same. Wears the same shirts. When the government brings those who want to come to a naval base to show them exclusive footage, he teaches the same way, too. They all get a hard and digital copy of the special message he left for them. It confirms what they've known all these years -- that he is happy to serve for the future that they've been having, that their kids and grandkids will have, that he hopes has been treating them well. Listening to all of his adventures, all that he has gained and done for them, it doesn't feel like blame anymore.
it’s almost strawberry season 🍓

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precious adams photographed backstage during balanchine's theme and variations by isabella turolla