"You little fuckers, I’m never having kids, ever."
"Damn inefficient, but yo that’s fun."
"Maybe I’d have one or two, for the sake of humanity."
"Humanity doesn’t need traces of my genetics."
"It would be hard if my partner insisted on children. Wait, I’d efficiently end the whole thing with a questionnaire before we get serious!"
"But if he’s cute as fuck and is persuasive enough damn i gotta avoid these lawyers/salesman type."
"My pension will one day be in your hands."
"You have so much energy, how."
"Your parents, teachers, friends, love you. They’re monsters, and you’re one, and this is one system of ugly monsters loving each other."
—- Humanity is blood and dirt, violence is everywhere. How does a boy, a girl, a baby, a child, an adult survives it, I have no idea. How did I do it? I never did it; it happened and I have always been anxious about it, constantly in my head, “wouldn’t it be better if I simply stopped breathing?”
my prayers, “may the world be kinder to you tomorrow than it was today.”
End Of The Affair - Ben Howard
Jacqueline Rose | The Haunting of Sylvia Plath
Albert Goldbarth, “The Sciences Sing a Lullaby”
exclamation marks, in my head, is like unsatisfying sex.
caps lock is the really, really bad sex you don’t want to talk about but nudge over all the time.
commas is the moderate kind of sex, satisfying, in the plainest sense.
semi colons are summer flings; i love how people are so annoyed by it.
colon is missionary sex ideal for conceiving (of course i am bullshitting here)
now, hyphen, is my personal favourite — when the old & young mingle. there exists an age gap in between the copulation, there exists this fascination with said gap, there is enjoyment in understanding how different the person in your bed is; it’s the celebration of the wrinkled and the suppled, the cellulite, the stretchmarks, the slight tummy and the wide hips.
don’t bother with apostrophe; i can’t remember.
what i am : the period.
(because as i’ve told you, i am bullshitting here. that is all to it. period)
August 6, 2014 at 9:41pm
But the main thing I found is that sheep will do anything to kill themselves. There are diseases and mink and foxes and things like that that’ll kill them, and then they get stuck in brambles, get thorns in their faces. If they eat too much and they sit down on a slope, they’ll turn on their backs like turtles and won’t be able to get up. And their bellies expand and then burst. They’re idiots. You’ve reared them since they were lambs and still they give you this blank stare. I think the only thing stupider than a sheep is possibly a kangaroo.
— Evie Wyld
Call it providence if the day should turn
upon its hinges, letting light colonise
this empire of jars and shutters, this room.
A telegram on the rack spells hands that burn
because you did not reply, did not realise
that some words are too proud to remind you they came.
Blue is the colour of air letters, of conquerors’ eyes.
Blue, leaking from your pen, triggers this enterprise.
Never journey far from me; and, if you must,
find towpaths, trails; follow the portents fugitives trust
to guide them out and back. And at some fork,
pause; and climbing in twilight though you may be,
somewhere, address this heart’s unease,
this heart’s unanswered wilderness.
—Effects of Distance, Ranjit Hoskote
Melbourne in the 1970s (source: my dad)
In the art museums of Russia, women sit in the galleries and guard the collections. When you look at the paintings and sculptures, the presence of the women becomes an inherent part of viewing the artwork itself. I found the guards as intriguing to observe as the pieces they watch over. In conversation they told me how much they like being among Russia’s great art. A woman in Moscow’s State Tretyakov Gallery Museum said she often returns there on her day off to sit in front of a painting that reminds her of her childhood home. Another guard travels three hours each day to work, since at home she would just sit on her porch and complain about her illnesses, “as old women do.” She would rather be at the museum enjoying the people watching, surrounded by the history of her country.
1. Stroganov Palace, Russian State Museum
2.Matisse Still Life, Hermitage Museum
3.Konchalovsky’s Family Portrait, State Tretyakov Gallery
4. Veronese’s Adoration of the Shepherds, Hermitage Museum
5. Rublev and Daniil’s The Deesis Tier, State Tretyakov Gallery
6. Michelangelo’s Moses and the Dying Slave, Pushkin Museum
7.Malevich’s Self Portrait, Russian State Museum
8. Nesterov’s Blessed St Sergius of Radonezh, Russian State Museum
9. Petrov-Vodkin’s Bathing of a Red Horse, State Tretyakov Gallery
10. Kugach’s Before the Dance, State Tretyakov Gallery
I feel so nervous, the heart in my chest wants to explode.