cattaraxnaps

[cattaraxnaps]

[cattaraxnaps]

i just ate a crepe so delicious juicy and good im about to forgive french people

[cattaraxnaps]

SEX TOY

[cattaraxnaps]

i am something worse

[cattaraxnaps]

[cattaraxnaps]

white towels by Richard Jones

[cattaraxnaps]

When a physicist falls in love :)

Richard Feynman's love letter to his deceased wife, 1946.

[cattaraxnaps]

Super/Natural. by Judith Schaechter, engraved flash glass, wood.

www.judithschaechter.com

[cattaraxnaps]

missing spring missing flowers

paisley rekdal- flowers from a new love after the divorce // new york botanical garden- language of flowers // ren yi- flowers and birds // a-book-scarfin-goblin // marta mcDowell- emily dickinson's gardening life // john lindley- a wreath of the most beautiful orchidaceous // personal wip // cynthia zarin- flowers

[cattaraxnaps]

ask polly i’m broke and mostly friendless, and i’ve wasted my whole life

[cattaraxnaps]

thinking of jesus at the gay bar again………

[cattaraxnaps]

[cattaraxnaps]

how’s that house that raised you?

[cattaraxnaps]

hate how so much of adult friendship relies on updates, experiencing your life through pictures and tidbits. we had it good with childhood friends, could spend years and years basking in the same circumstance. now i just float through clouds of strangers, hungry for something solid and warm. yes i carry your heart within mine, yes i see the world through your eyes. but in that very moment i still feel alone, still know it's poor substitute for same room, twin smiles.

[cattaraxnaps]

being as i am an idiot, and having been one my whole life, i just wanna say that i find it very easy to do nothing, and go nowhere. i eat chocolate late at night in the dark. i stand in the garden also. and i’m often waiting for something to happen. and i’m stupid.

[cattaraxnaps]

a couple more pieces from my last warp of 2024 :-)

handwoven cotton, dec. 2024

[cattaraxnaps]

I had a red dot on the palm of my hand for over a year, near the left-hand fate line. I wondered for a while if I gave myself a tattoo of error when my grader's pen met an open wound without my notice. I thought cancer, then shrugged it off until the dot turned black, and sick, I poked at it with tweezers.

When I was twelve or so, I fell off my bike. After an agonizing hour of first aid, everyone was sure all the gravel was gone but me.

Vindication. The last piece of my childhood driveway worked its way up, cell by cell, and made its way to the surface.