#stagelessness

[asethabalanar]

To Moon and Stars

Rocket ships or flying sausages? like these fantasies you will see in the books but not today, the future is made in the present and the past is history, if you don’t know your history you will never reach the present state therefore can’t make any future for yourself, therefor this leads to a chain reaction which gets you tight caught up in the past present and future subjects not knowing which…

[grupaok]

Judith Miller, n2: Kneeling, 1972

[vollformat-berlin]

A small exhibition with big pictures!  >> Sven Marquardt STAGELESS << . . DE// Eine kleine Ausstellung mit großen Bildern!  >> Sven Marquardt STAGELESS << . . . Photo ©: @Vollformat_BLN ^NW #Vollformat #Berlin #vfbln #SvenMarquardt #Stageless #PicturefromPicture|s  (hier: Berlin – the place to be) https://www.instagram.com/p/CGSpTCkp8jZ/?igshid=1g0wgrtwml742

[eyred]

@stageless replied to your post: 

👀

[wrldwrn-blog]

Ѡ tony to pep

           (  sms  :   t.  stark  )     very nice.  whoever’s the intended recipient of these had better appreciate it.            (  sms  :   t.  stark  )     although i would suggest that you move three feet to your left if you’re going to use that angle.  the light’s better at that spot.

@stageless.    /   accepting.

[rosewandarchive]

❝    stop  talkin’ ,  just  for  a  second  ‘till  i  get  your  smile  right .    ❞

the  abandoned  room  is  wood - lined ,  she  sits  on  a  lab  counter  with  her  knees  tucked  up .  on  her  lap  is  a  yellowing  sketchbook  sporting  purposeful  coffee  and  ink  stains ,  the  page  is  half  taken - up  by  a  portrait  of  the  boy  sitting  next  to  her . 

❝    miss  karpowitz  can  try’ta  find  a  flaw  in  this .    ❞

she  giggles .  he  has  no  eyes ---  in  the  picture ,  anyway .  but  she  turns  the  sketchbook  and  shows  michael  the  hair ,  neck ,  chin  and  lips  she’s  artfully  arranged . 

❝    how  do  we  feel  about  it ?  i  think  it  looks  kinda  like  you .  once  i  get  those  pretty ,  green  peepers  in  there .    ❞

*    ♡    ──  ⎛  @stageless .  ⎠

[dncngqn-a]

✦･ﾟ･ﾟ﹡ @stageless ❤’d | alex medford.

                              given  her  long  tenure  here  at  the  hotel,  the  blonde  was  FAMILIAR  with  its  REGULAR  patrons,  those  who  were  lucky  enough  to  come  &&  go  as  they  pleased.  the  ones  that  left  UNSCATHED.  but  as  ocean  gaze  washed  'cross  the  bar,  it  landed  'pon  a  woman  she'd  NEVER  come  to  see  around  before,  &&  the  eternally  young  woman  had  ALWAYS  enjoyed  meeting  new  people,  always  enjoyed  listening  to  their  stories  &&  she'd  heard  a  lot  whilst  she'd  been  here,  not  one  of  them  had  been  UNINTERESTING  &&  by  the  looks  of  the  other,  she  doubted  hers  would  be  any  different.  ❝   i  haven't  seen  you  around  here  before,   ❞  sweet  were  her  tones,  just  like  SUGAR  CANE,  something  she'd  inherited  from  her  mother  all  those  years  ago,  an  attribute  that  allowed  her  to  talk  to  many  people,  to  place  that  MOMENTARY  trust  in  her.  there  was  NO  PRESSURE,  of  course  there  wasn't,  but  a  friendly  smile,  a  kind  word  could  always  be  used  in  a  place  such  as  this.  

[brdied]

‘ just to be clear ––– that was me threatening you. ’ from billy bc i guess he wants to die tonight

         he doesn’t know who  she  is.  he has no idea who she is  ––  what she is.  he doesn’t know what she’s capable of,  that all of her monsters have bigger teeth than he can ever imagine  ––  cruelty is a specialty that barbara morse doesn’t often have the chance to wield,  but she’s got  DEMONS,  and oh  !    they’re begging to her to come out and  play  !

      ‘  i think you’ve made  that  very clear   .  .  .   mr. russo  ––  ’    she tries it on for size,  but she doesn’t think it’ll cut the same effect,  won’t get his attention the way that she  WANTS  to.  she’ll start a war right here,  just because she  can.   ‘  billy.  billy.  bill  ––  william.  can i call you william  ?  ’

     she doesn’t wait for an answer.  she doesn’t care,  just wants to test the waters to see what kind of a rise she can get out of him like that.  like a goddamn cat playing with her dinner,  baiting a shark because she likes the  CHASE.  she grins,  and there’s venom dripping from her smile.  it’s not a nice smile,  it’s a threatening mess of a thing,  one baited with amusement and a threat of her own.   ‘  let me tell you something,  william.  just to be clear  ––  i am smarter than you.  i am stronger than you.  my teeth are bigger than yours.  it’d make my day if you tried back up those threats,  but i’m supposed to be on my best behavior,  so this is  THE  ONLY  warning you’re going to get.  stand down now,  or i will come down on you like the wrath of god.  you  cannot  take  me   .  .  .   got it,  sweetheart  ?  ’

    accepting.     /     @stageless 

[escapemethods]

“after all the bullshit, is this all there is?” christopher to tony

“yeah.”

tony’s honest with himself about his own honesty -- or lack thereof.  but he’s never been as truthful as he is about his own inner despair,  or rage turned inward,  or depression  --  or whatever the fuck quacks are calling it these days.  they’re sitting in front of satriale’s,  alone without the other guys for once,  and tony’s eating a meatball parm sub with enough sauce to dribble down and sog up the plate. best place to talk about all of the shit wrong with their heads. 

tony hums as he chews,  loud and ungraceful,  then swallows and dabs his face with one of the napkins between them,  wipes his fingers where he no longer wears his wedding band.  his depression has made its home inside of him and he wants to spread his own misery to others,  like the piece of shit he is.  he’s long accepted it.  even to christopher,  one of his favorite people in the world. 

“yeah, this is it.  this is all of it.  it’s all a big nothing.  no amount of therapy,  of rehab,  of whatever  ---   will fix how much of a shit hole this world is to live in.  you just gotta get used to it,  chrissy.  you gotta live in it,  ‘cause what else is there?”

@stageless  /  sopranos meme.  /   accepting.

[lepracant]

" is this a good or bad thing? " from shadow

@stageless   made a suggestion  //  ACCEPTING ! 

PHILANTHROPIST OF SELF         /   saint of identity   ,   peter and paul and sweeney the mad.  he’d left bits and pieces of himself littered along highways and dirt roads  ,  mud caked titles and names.   he was a patchwork man who little by little unraveled his own threads  ,  cut away the dying bits of his personhood and left them to be taken by the earth.  AMERICA THE FREE !     the land on which   opportunities    were made.    dreams were claimed.    belief was one half of the uphill battle.     EARTH HAD CEDED TO STONE:      stone to metal       and so too had his fragile bone been replaced   ,   contrary to popular belief:      man is not meant to be tempered in fire the way you    harden steel.     he’d been thrown to the   flames    witnessed his death in the pyre of a war rite.   his boots had covered more ground than other’s had in lifetimes  ,  crossed seas.    he is a relic of the past  ,   the last key to a mosaic of memory hidden under the hills 

the sun attacks this land year by year and people ignore the   LONG DEAD GODS    in their midst.   LIGHTING ON THE YEAR         blasphemy has it’s consequences and taking a god with you when you pass was the least of it.    worshipped in death  ,  larger than life  ,  larger than he’d ever been before and with eyes like fire.     the grave of a buffalo the new altar.    WORSHIP FOUND IN DEATH.        would that the earth take him whole  ,  let the roots consume his bones  ,  the leaves take the color of his eyes  ,  would that he could trade it all for something akin to redemption.     LIFELESS TREES     all around him  ,  bare earth  ,  suddenly devoid of life  ,  trunks pointing like spears up to heaven.   a grin splits his face  ,  worn  , tired  , beaten down by the life he’d chosen for himself and he finds numb lips forming words without thought.    “    aye  ,  i reckon it’s a great thing.    “        he’d wandered a couple of hundred years in these boots already  ,  PAST DUE    for a death.    perhaps someone would finally come to collect. 

[sanctamater]

i hope you have a wonderful thanksgiving!!

thank u! if u celebrate it, i hope urs is wonderful too. if not, i hope ur day has been absolutely scrumptious.

[righteusa]

@stageless    cont.  from here.

FINGERS TIGHTEN ON THE HANDLE    shovel tip pressed into the earth  ,  if this whole hunting business doesn’t pan out he can have a very successful business in grave digging.   he’d been digging his own for years after all.   what a fine pair of friends these two made:     the man who threw himself at death and left a string of bodies behind him like spent up matchsticks. the man who stumbled on death like left behind cigarette butts.   lingered history that found their way to them.   A LIFE LIVED IN SHADOW     when you find a darkness that matches your own you flock to it  ,   a confused moth to a dark flame  ,  no choice to follow him right  ?    the casket creaks under his weight when he lands beside john with a thud.   “   don’t  need you fucking up mine  ,  right  ?   WINCHESTER     can still carry a lot of weight.    “    and wouldn’t he know  ?   oh atlas  ,  which is heavier  ?   the weight of the world or it’s worries  ?   the hunter who’d died  ,  the hunter who’d literally been to hell and back.    fingers grip the wood so tight his knuckles go white  ,  what are you afraid of john  ?   PRESQUE VU   ,   words on the tip of his tongue  ,  the things he’d seen  ,  the things he’d done.  

he had no right to make cigarettes and the easy curl of smoke from a mouth barely visible in the dark seem so soothing.   he had no right to make him laugh and smile on a mission.   sammy isn’t here   and the grim line of his lips have curled into something almost like a grin.    “   this is your type of boogey man  ,  time for you to take the reins.   “

[grupaok]

Lyubov Popova, Construction for the stage production of The Earth in Turmoil, 1923 — via Roann Barris, “The Life of the Constructivist Theatrical Object,” 2013

[knifewields]

‘  look  ,  the  only  way  you  can  come  is  if  you  bring  more  booze  !  they’re  starting  to  become  suspicious  of  my  fake  ,  man  !  .  .  .  and  there’s  no  way  i’m  driving  twenty  -  miles  out  again  !  ’

* @stageless / liked  for  stu’s  hurricane  extravaganza !

[realitv]

  WE’VE ALL BECOME ANIMALS WITH ONLY ONE INSTINCT LEFT: self-preservation. That was the way of ( Mister ) World; ADAPT OR SURVIVE. I kept going. A thousand mouths chanting their name loud and clear; a network of sight and hearing that was ever expanding. WANT TO BUY SOME ILLUSIONS ? SLIGHTLY USED, JUST LIKE NEW ! From silent films to the talkies to TECHNICOLOUR AND CINEMASCOPE: roadshow movie previews and live talk show audiences: I, MEDIA: FAMISHED. Right hand to the World himself -- better off than any those who had been born and DISCARDED within the blink of an eye. Better than those who had known power and found themselves FORGOTTEN. Assimilation with no promise of success: A MELTING POT for man and God alike; who better than VOX POPULI / VOX DEI to start selling?   Marlene Dietrich’s still greyscale: grainy and hardly larger than life. A cigarette clenched between those pearly whites and they bite back a RAVENOUS grin; the curve of their mouth sharp and dangerous like a blade, blunt like a kitchen knife. Twisting, twisting, stretching across flesh unpleasantly; till it looked like silicone would SPLIT in two. “I’M SELLING OUT. TAKE ALL I’VE GOT! AMBITIONS, CONVICTIONS, THE WORKS! WHY NOT? You put up quite the chase; not exactly the easiest to pin down. OH, I SUPPOSE THAT IS PUBLICITY IN HOLLYWOOD.” It’s A FOREIGN AFFAIR in the box office: yet to become poisonous like the look in their eyes. “Mister Wednesday, we meet at last.” 

&& @stageless ;;

[wrldwrn-blog]

❛ make sure you tip the nice lady. ❜ tony to clint

        he’s halfway to pulling his  mostly  empty wallet out when he remembers.  does a double take,  lifts a dark eyebrow.     ‘  aren’t  you  supposed the rich guy  ?  ’