omg once my friend was smoking weed before a casual lunch party and it was whatever because she thought it was just weed
but i swear that shit was laced with K or something because she was hallucinating throughout
she talked to a phone charger
Your criticism sounds to me as if you have read too many critical books and are too smart in an artificial, destructive, and very limited way.
tonight after dinner my mom, my sister, and i were sitting in the living room and having tea. the doorbell rang and it was one of my mom’s close friends, they go back around 13-14 years and she moved here just recently. she was on a walk and decided to drop by. we welcomed her in, served tea, fixed up some snacks and had pleasant conversation. she looked troubled, and when my mother asked her if something was the matter, she spoke to us about her mother, and her sisters. one of whom recently divorced her husband and now has three kids to look after, the other one has been struggling financially for years, and the youngest one dealing with a miscarriage. stories of how women bear the brunt of the work, bear the brunt of the war, bear everything. in return, my mother shares similar experiences in an attempt to relate, to lighten the burdens she so intimately knows. stories of infidelity, of grief, of women who continue to love beyond themselves are shared. there’s no resolve to this post, and i haven’t anything profound to say. back when nyusha was on this website, she once wrote about how woman is the true revolutionary. it has rang so true in the past year.
"It would be the best of all, you know, if once in one of my pictures, only one human being had got something out of it for his life, for his daily life or for his future. I would be happy. That is the whole reason. If people use my pictures, it doesn’t matter if they are angry or aggressive or critical, but just that they are emotionally involved with my pictures. That is the only thing that is important to me."
July 14, 1918 — July 30, 2007
“When I speak of poetry I am not thinking of it as a genre. Poetry is an awareness of the world, a particular way of relating to reality. So poetry becomes a philosophy to guide a man throughout his life…. [With poetry, one] is capable of going beyond the limitations of coherent logic, and conveying the deep complexity and truth of the impalpable connections and hidden phenomena of life.”
— Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in Time, translated by Kitty Hunter-Blair (1987)
Do you girls fuck with coconut oil? What do you use it for? Tell me your secrets!
last year in the winter months when i was in an awful depression bout, i wouldn’t leave the bed for days/sleep through them. one day i woke up at around 7 in the evening and my best friend had texted me saying “how’s your day going?” and i replied saying “i just woke up” to which she said “morning sunshine!”
today i napped at a terrible time and woke up groggy at 6 to her having texted me about something, and i replied “i just woke up” to which she replied again “morning sunshine!”
i’m in such a good place, i’ve been killing it. i love her so much. i doubt she even remembers the former conversation but it made me tear up, lol.
“Asked once why she published fewer than 350 poems, Szymborska replied: ‘I have a trash can in my home.’”
"Are you speaking the truth? Well, now, after such a confession, I believe that you are sincere and good at heart. If you do not attain happiness, always remember that you are on the right road, and try not to leave it. Above all, avoid falsehood, every kind of falsehood, especially falseness to yourself. Watch over your own deceitfulness and look into it every hour, every minute. Avoid being scornful, both to others and to yourself. What seems to you bad within you will grow purer from the very fact of your observing it in yourself. Avoid fear, too, though fear is only the consequence of every sort of falsehood. Never be frightened at your own faint-heartedness in attaining love. Don’t be frightened overmuch even at your evil actions. I am sorry I can say nothing more consoling to you, for love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing compared with love in dreams. Love in dreams is greedy for immediate action, rapidly performed and in the sight of all. Men will even give their lives if only the ordeal does not last long but is soon over, with all looking on and applauding as though on the stage. But active love is labour and fortitude, and for some people too, perhaps, a complete science. But I predict that just when you see with horror that in spite of all your efforts you are getting farther from your goal instead of nearer to it- at that very moment I predict that you will reach it and behold clearly the miraculous power of the Lord who has been all the time loving and mysteriously guiding you.
- The Brothers Karamazov, Chapter 4 (A Lady of Little Faith)