unguibus et rostro

imagine being the first ancient person to realize that the ocean and their tears taste the same. imagine realizing that your sorrow and the waves share a taste. i wouldve gone crazy

we need non cancerous cigarettes to give to women so they look hot. men get the normal kind

i try to be chill but my brain writes essays about everything

@vercajna us <3

"what if that homeless person you gave money to spends it on alcohol ???😱" first of all alcohol withdrawal kills people and if theyre not in a safe place to detox (unlikely if they dont have a fucking home) this is literally harm reduction. second of all if they are not in danger of withdrawal thats fine too because im not a little baby bitch who thinks people have to earn the right to have a fucking drink by passing the "must be this tall housed to ride" test. third of all i would have spent it on alcohol also. so now what.

As part of her social media detox this girl on YouTube made herself do one hour of understimulating tasks every day and she just counted rice for 60 minutes straight because its no different from doomscrolling in terms of wasted time

When I say this changed my life. Every time I'm on my phone I ask myself Is this different from counting rice for one hour ? and if the answer is no I go find something else to do. It works well because it's not about conforming to productivity standards or about moralizing digital hobbies it's just an honest reflection on whether tomorrow I will be glad I spent my time this way and then acting accordingly. The rice paradigm

I miss her hole (the headphone jack on the cell phone)

uh oh i miss something i can’t name again. i want to go home to something that doesn’t exist again. does anyone have a gun

I miss the world being tactile. I miss pushing buttons. I miss switching over to your favorite radio station in the car without having to look, I miss punching in a customer’s phone number without having to look, I miss sending a sneaky text without having to look, I miss turning on my morning alarms without having to look… I miss pressing physical buttons for cash amounts and knowing that you did it correctly because you felt the correct release under your fingertips. I miss the satisfying clinks of my grandmother's 80's typewriter. I miss the crunching of gear mechanisms beneath the pads of my flesh. I miss the tick-tick-tick sensation. I don't want to touch and retouch a surface covered with the visible smears of thousands of fingerprints. I don't want to talk to my T.V. remote. I don't want a keypad to rise up as a smooth, steely reminder that our tools are losing the human feeling of texture, grit, and raw material. If I have to touch another screen I might die.

thinking about the years 431-430 BCE in Athens like man. at least the poor plague victims probably got to enjoy the fucking banger that must have been the original performance of Euripides' Medea