1990danieljohnston:

1990danieljohnston:

it started raining and i couldn’t help but think about one of john cage’s letters to merce cunningham. that’s definitely something that lives rent free in my tiny lil ant brain

i swear to god…………………………….

jewishpaulnewman:

malayansunbear:

my favourite thing about history (and the reason why social history matters to me above anything else) is the reminder that there’s no emotion i’ve felt, no grief or trauma, no joy or laughter, that hasn’t been experienced by other people across time and space, and the idea of slipping into another life so different on the surface and yet so fundamentally similar to my own, and understanding them as a life like my own, with inner worlds that can’t be easily articulated, with loved ones and favourite foods and days they woke up having slept wrong and the acute experiences of standing in a quiet room and watching the light catch on dust floating in the air, of the smell outside after it rains heavily, of mornings after having dreamt something feverish and strange, or the knowledge of an impending loss and trying to prepare for it emotionally. peeling fruit and giving a piece to a friend. being awake at an hour that feels like you’re the only person alive in the world. that feeling when you know you need to eat and that you’re hungry but you just don’t find it appealing at all and it kind of makes you feel nauseous. i like imagining people in all different places and times experiencing those things, it makes me feel less alone and afraid of myself and my experience feels less daunting if that makes sense. others have lived with experiences like this too, and do, and will.

James Baldwin, The Price of the Ticket (1985)

peoplehood:

my favorite poems

lunah-goodbye:

Maggie Smith, “Good Bones” / Mary Oliver, “Franz Marc’s Blue Horses” / Hayao Miyazaki / Richard Siken, “Snow and Dirty Rain”

bourgwesioie:

What more do you want?

I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you’re

really there.

Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live?

(richard siken, from ‘Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out’)

amethystgold:

heavensghost:

Ocean Vuong, On Earth we’re briefly gorgeous

[They say nothing lasts forever but they’re just scared it will last longer than they can love it.]

inkipri:

here’s to the small joys and baby hopes!

liriostigre:

Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Vast Night.” The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke (translated by Stephen Mitchell)