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good morning it's don't crash out Thursday where we try our hardest not to crash out. on Thursday

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Grant Wood “Death On The Ridge Road” (1935) Source

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found this old journal entry from 2018 when i was withering away in an office job

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How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living.

Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

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Audrey Hepburn photographed by Elisabetta Catalano at her apartment in Rome, Italy, March 1976. Audrey was wearing a light pink chiffon dress with ivory polka dots from Valentino’s 1973 Spring/Summer collection.

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𝔰𝔦𝔠 𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔡 𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞 ☆

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my friends and i can't stop referencing this post

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crotch hurts

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at least i'm not left handed 🙄

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Printed Cotton from Hartmann et Fils, French, 1799

From the Met Museum

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brown sugar and cinnamon are lesbian married

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Personally I do dream of labor I like working

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Walpurgis Night, Constantin Nepo, 1864

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Margaret Atwood, from a journal entry featured in Early Essays & Journals

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Louise Glück, from A Travel Diary; Winter Recipes from the Collective: Poems, 2021

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fuck windows death to microsoft