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“Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven���s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”

— Kurt Vonnegut (via lazypacific)

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An illustration from Pierre Louÿs’ The Songs of Bilitis, Translated from the Greek (Macy-Masius: New York, 1926). Two ancient Greek women tend each other in an erotic manner; presumably, they are Bilitis and Mnasidika, the protagonists of the poem.

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Light, shadow, and reflection in the heat wave

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fossilized teeth

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Been so deep in the queer community I forgot straight society hates women with happy trails. How?

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i mean, what can i even write to something like this

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You call that taking it well? Do you know what étage your daughter's at in ballet, Mrs. Schleine? Or that she was banned from her science class for stealing a formaldehyde pig so she could give it a proper burial on central park? And the tea set you got her - it's exquisite and beautiful, but do you know how she likes to have her tea, how many lumps - one lump, two - cream, sugar? UPTOWN GIRLS (2003), dir. Boaz Yakin

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Uptown Girls (2003) dr. Boaz Yakin

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Close Encounters

(c) gifs by riverwindphotography, July 2025

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Swimming, One Day in August

by Mary Oliver

It is time now, I said, for the deepening and quieting of the spirit among the flux of happenings.

Something had pestered me so much I thought my heart would break. I mean, the mechanical part.

I went down in the afternoon to the sea which held me, until I grew easy.

About tomorrow, who knows anything. Except that it will be time, again, for the deepening and quieting of the spirit.

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ah. it would be enough to be loved like the month of august. i want to hone down each sunset and fit it like a gold wreath into my ribcage. an entire month that feels like a single beautiful sunday. all warm rain, all mountain range, all beach days. august is already nostalgic while i am living in it. a month that is a gentle kiss. a month that feels sleepy and sated. the peach and the pit.