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Creature from the Maine Woods roaming the Bay Area. 30, mildly unsettling, and seeking transcendence

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Fuckkk I meant Thelma Todd!!!!! Not Carole. Please reassess

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Sometimes the way Papa V Perpetua moves reminds me of Carole Lombard. Slinky and confident. I love him for this and other reasons

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the most encompassing representation of my experience of being alive. I am at once the hands, the stone, and the blood. Not one comfortable or pleased.

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It’s like this. I feel I am a salamander wishing to be a hawk.

And I am not even actually a salamander. (I am not a hawk.)

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I wish I could bring something of real value to the world. It makes me so sad to think that I have not managed to do so thus far

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And of course he still is, and always will be

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The first time i got drunk as an adolescent, i remember being home alone and choosing to watch The Last Man on Earth. So for whatever reason, Vincent Price was always going to be significant for me

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His little metal tail and the way his egg yolks were green 🥰🥰🥰

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It is so nice to have that known through-line from my childhood self to my adult self. Like yes, I am this specific being who has very consistently resonated with this other specific person’s being

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Something so important that I learned this year is how Vincent Price voiced the dark bunny in that stop motion easter movie I had on VHS when I was a child. I do not remember much at all from my childhood, but I do remember loving that character deeply

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If greta garbo was not born, my life would be worse and my spirit more downcast

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What if I was loved while I am still on earth. No rush I guess but sometime in the next year would be nice

[Josephine @claustralis]

Pessoa

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#donot even mention the shoulder blades

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My posture is always asking and failing to answer the question, ‘where exactly should my shoulders be, in the realms of time and space?’

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I reject my place here. Do not place me here.

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A lot of gender and sexuality discourse makes me feel like I am a child visiting a strange, poorly lit household where the adults are smoking cigarettes indoors and all the windows are shut. it’s raining outside.

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All I can do is pretend not to understand what meanings they intend. To pretend the assumptions and judgements and prison bars are not real, are not in my sightline. To pretend I can be free of all that and just be a Being. unburdened by beliefs fed by centuries.

[Yoon @nicoscosc]

“Between you and me there is this distance called writing.”

— Jean-Luc Nancy, in dialogue with Clarice Lispector’s Água Viva

from a piece titled “Could it be that what I write to you is behind thought?” (The title itself is a phrase from Água Viva.)

(trans. Fernanda Negrete)