We repeat a process of hoping our bodies to the future though for now mine eats cucumbers in bed. I had a dream about a crystal blue pool. I felt stupid when I saw the ocean.
Wendy Xu, “The News,” via the Poetry Foundation (via arabellesicardi)
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Discoholic 🪩
Misplaced Lens Cap

if i look back, i am lost
Keni
noise dept.
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Claire Keane

⁂

★

ellievsbear
One Nice Bug Per Day
YOU ARE THE REASON

titsay

pixel skylines
tumblr dot com

izzy's playlists!
h

blake kathryn

oozey mess

seen from Italy

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@tinyspiritz
We repeat a process of hoping our bodies to the future though for now mine eats cucumbers in bed. I had a dream about a crystal blue pool. I felt stupid when I saw the ocean.
Wendy Xu, “The News,” via the Poetry Foundation (via arabellesicardi)

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screenprint from See Red Women’s Workshop
kate zambreno
Black Orpheus (1959)
Burning An Illusion (1981)

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ana mendieta
Untitled (Creek #2), San Felipe, Mexico,1974Super-8 colour, silent film transferred to DVDRunning time: 3 minutes, 30 seconds
Urchin-eroded, anemone encrusted, ancient brain coral fossil #coralmorphologic #braincoralzeitgeist #floridakeys
Being really alone means being free from anticipation. Even to know that something is going to happen, that I am required to do something is an intrusion on the emptiness I am after. What I love to see is an empty diary, pages and pages of nothing planned. A date, an arrangement, is a point in the future when something is required of me. I begin to worry about it days, sometimes weeks ahead. Just a haircut, a hospital visit, a dinner party. Going out. The weight of the thing-that-is-going-to-happen sits on my heart and crushes the present into non-existence. My ability to live in the here and now depends on not having any plans, on there being no expected interruption. I have no other way to do it. How can you be alone, properly alone, if you know someone is going to knock at the door in five hours, or tomorrow morning, or you have to get ready and go out in three days’ time? I can’t abide the fracturing of the present by the intrusion of a planned future.
Jenny Diski, from “On Spiders and Respect for Sheep,” Trying to Keep Still (via lifeinpoetry)
Madwomen: the ones who are compelled to redo acts of birth every day. I think, “Nothing is a given for me.” I wasn’t born for once and for all. Writing, dreaming, delivering; being my own daughter of each day.
Hélène Cixous, Coming to Writing (via kitduckworth)
Cosmos (Andrzej Zulawski, 2015)

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The Midnight Swim.
The Midnight Swim (2013)
The Midnight Swim (Sarah Adina Smith, 2014)
Miguel James, translated by Guillermo parra (h/t @anneboyer)
While there’s increasing recognition that gender is a spectrum rather than a dichotomy, prisons still haven’t figured out what to do about it...
The first comprehensive look at transwomen behind bars shows they feel more feminine when surrounded by men
BY LISA BUTTERWORTH

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eating fresh figs and wafers on the beach, second lake swim of the summer (first for this lake), the sun was day two of it’s three day solstice alignment, the water was warm like a light summer bath, watching rhinoceros clouds be carried by the wind which was warm and heavy, and then the dark clouds of satan’s lair covered the city and we got struck by tornadoes of dust (concrete and asbestos?) from the city that is now one big condominium construction site and then coming home to drink the cold mint, lavender and honey tea i made earlier just as the rain hit.
the city will eat then heal us.
tumblr as a new-old diary archive. went digging for some past ode's to the summer solstice and found this.
The Honeymoon Killers (Leonard Kastle, 1969)
“I’d rather see you in jail than on that blanket making love to another woman.”