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Girl on tumblr blogging by the hour yet takes 2-3 business days to respond to mobile text messages sorry

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Jesus and Joseph modern day

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1. three moments in paris, mina loy/ 2. eurydice, sarah ruhl/ 3. orphée ramenant eurydice des enfers, jean-baptiste camille corot/ eurydice, sarah ruhl/ 4. talk, hozier/ 5. hadestown, anais mitchell/ 6. the wounded eurydice, jean baptiste camille corot

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Mitski for Pitchfork // Richard Siken for TinHouse

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In the first poetry workshop I ever took my professor said we could write about anything we wanted except for two things: our grandparents and our dogs. She said she had never read a good poem about a dog. I could only remember ever reading one poem about a dog before that point—a poem by Pablo Neruda, from which I only remembered the lines “We walked together on the shores of the sea/ In the lonely winter of Isla Negra.” Four years later I wrote a poem about how when I was a little girl I secretly baptized my dog in the bathtub because I was afraid she wouldn’t get into heaven. “Is this a good poem?” I wondered. The second poetry workshop, our professor made us put a bird in each one of our poems. I thought this was unbelievably stupid. This professor also hated when we wrote about hearts, she said no poet had ever written a good poem in which they mentioned a heart. I started collecting poems about hearts, first to spite her, but then because it became a habit I couldn’t break. The workshop after that, our professor would tell us the same story over and over about how his son had died during a blizzard. He would cry in front of us. He never told us we couldn’t write about anything, but I wrote a lot of poems about snow. At the end of the year he called me into his office and said, “looking at you, one wouldn’t think you’d be a very good writer” and I could feel all the pity inside of me curdling like milk. The fourth poetry workshop I ever took my professor made it clear that poets should not try to engage with popular culture. I noticed that the only poets he assigned were men. I wrote a poem about that scene in Grease 2 where a boy takes his girlfriend to a fallout shelter and tries to get her to have sex with him by tricking her into believing that nuclear war had begun. It was the first poem I ever published. The fifth poetry workshop I ever took our professor railed against the word blood. She thought that no poem should ever have the word “blood” in it, they were bloody enough already. She returned a draft of my poem with the word blood crossed out so hard the paper had torn. When I started teaching poetry workshops I promised myself I would never give my students any rules about what could or couldn’t be in their poems. They all wrote about basketball. I used to tally these poems when I’d go through the stack I had collected at the end of each class. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 poems about basketball. This was Indiana. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I told the class, “for the next assignment no one can write about basketball, please for the love of god choose another topic. Challenge yourselves.” Next time I collected their poems there was one student who had turned in another poem about basketball. I don’t know if he had been absent on the day I told them to choose another topic or if he had just done it to spite me. It’s the only student poem I can still really remember. At the time I wrote down the last lines of that poem in a notebook. “He threw the basketball and it came towards me like the sun”

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being the ghost that haunts your own home

lyric credits:

(1) riches and wonders - the mountain goats (2) appointments - julien baker (3) swimming pool - the front bottoms"there's comfort in the silence of a living room / the TV is on for you / hide in your basement / while your house burns down" (5-7) the ballad of costa concordia - car seat headrest (8) high to death - car seat headrest (9) compulsive liar - ezra furman (10) seven - taylor swift (11) class of 2013 - mitski (12) fast car - tracy champan (13) twin size mattress - the front bottoms (14) tonight i feel like kafka - jealous of the birds (15) i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it - the 1975 (16) i know the end - phoebe bridgers (17) sense of home - harrison storm (18) woke up new - the mountain goats (19) no surprises - radiohead

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the number of hours we have together is not so large btw. you can linger in the doorway uncomfortably if you want idk. you can forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it if you even care

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from the introduction to emily wilsons translation of the iliad

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« You have bewitched me, body and soul, … »

« But he’s been a fool, about so many other things. But then, so have I.  » 

Part 2 of my Zutara/Pride & Prejudice mash-up. The first one was fun to do, so why not a part 2? Also the idea of Jet-Wickham was too tempting. (And Aang-Collins–sorry Aang, it had to be this way. We still love you)

And the famous hand stretch scene, aah. A brilliant detail. Again, love this movie. 

Part 1 | Part 2

(DISCLAIMER: this is in no way meant to bash on other ships than Zutara. It’s just me playing with an AU)

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9-1-1 | 6x09 / 6x12 / 6x15

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hi! can i request a webweaving on growing up with mentally ill mothers?

?? \\ julia soboleva \\ s.r. (@dobaara) when mothers and daughters are reflections of each other \\ nitram (2021) dir. justin kurzel (via @filmswithoutfaces) \\ trista mateer aphrodite made me do it \\ the walters i love you so \\ leonardo da vinci study of proportions [detail] (c. 1490) (via @gatakka)

kofi

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on mothers

Nayyirah Waheed, Salt//Annie Ernaux, I Remain in Darkness//Ella Wilson, Take Care: Mothers, Daughters and Inheriting Self-Hatred//Sam Gordon, A Mother's Hate//Karl Brjullov, The Last Day of Pompeii//wych elm, Susan Smith//Lady Bird (2017)//@bitterl//Pheobe Bridgers, Kyoto//@filmnoirsbian,the killing grounds//Acacia, mommy//John Green, Turtles All the Way Down//?

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this obliterated me

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EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE, the Daniels / MONSTER THEORY (SEVEN THESIS), Jeffrey Jerome Cohen / ANECDOTE OF THE PIG, Tory Adkisson / THE CAGED OWL: “INVESTIGATION”, Gregory Orr / HEAVEN, Franz Wright / BLACK TELEPHONE, Richard Siken

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X

M. A. Thompson - I Won’t Write My Poem ‘Till I’m In My Right Mind X

Mary Oliver X

Richard Siken - road music

George Sand (Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin) in her letter to Gustave Flaubert X

Ada Limón - The Carrying X

Nikki Giovanni - Mirrors X

“I just want to be kind in a world that isn’t”

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are they... you know .... [up to the audience's interpretation]

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