between delusion and prophecy
ad astra per aspera, annus mirabilis.
*i used to have a "this blogger is...[x]-positive" thing here, listing things i support and post frequently about, except i realized that it was akin to a disclaimer, and i don't want to issue warnings about myself.
so instead, hey: this blog often contains unapologetic support of a spectrum of aspects of the human condition. you can deal with it or see your way out.
troll(s) under my bridge
THIS BLOG MAY AT TIMES CONTAIN MATERIAL THAT IS NSFW.
Cadence (acoustic) by Anberlin
heartstrings, you’re pulling at my heartstrings~
1) Go to Google Translate
2) Set the translator to translate German to German
3) Copy + paste the following into the translate box: pv zk pv pv zk pv zk kz zk pv pv pv zk pv zk zk pzk pzk pvzkpkzvpvzk kkkkkk bsch
4) Click “listen”
oh my god.
oh my friggin.
do it, please.
yeah thats me.haven’t done this in quite a while and i have to figure out the rest of this piece but…um…yeah thats what i’m doing right now (:
to tell you something I’d never told anyone I realized I’d told everyone pretty much everything. I am a writer, after all. I will tell everyone everything, all they have to do is look or ask. There are things I will never tell anyone (I have tattoos that have nothing to do with these thoughts, these events, but they are still the reason I have tattoos - the reason I have 3/4” holes in my ear lobes). In this way I am less than human, a crippled homunculus with a penchant for narratives that reveal these things about myself through the mouths and hands of fictional people: the drunken misanthrope, the slutty teen-aged girl, the crippled fag, the regret-filled mother, the disappointed father, the jilted bride, the spurned sister, the ambitious brother.
None of them are real, but I invite them in with the propensity of a mataron in a mental institute. Let me show you the most comfortable bed. I file them away so one day I have all my ones to choose from. In the same way this makes me sub-human, stunted by my own fears of how the civilized world understands coming-of-age and the dissonance between this understanding and my own childhood, it makes me a deity. I am the sun, and the moon, and like Morrissey I am the heir of nothing in particular (which positions me perfectly to absorb everything I possibly can in my mortal trappings). I can disassociate myself to a point so far that I can relate to anyone, anything - even the most filthy, atrocious of snubs. Killers, or worse. A laudable reader knows I’ve poisoned people in my work; I’ve snuffed out life with as much ease as I would stomp out a cigarette. I could be one of Hitler’s youth, the way I’ve craftily defamed some of you. I’ve no respect for the dead: even they are not safe from my fingers typifying them.
But I have the greatest respect for life. The natural world is some of the greatest inspiration - I have lived in it! I have lived with others in it! I have shown it to others and they’ve shown it to me. I’ve rekindled my lust for life simply by describing the moon plunging through a cold sheet of cloud, or the way the sun kisses the sky just before she goes to bed and all the clouds blush for having watched. I’m filled with awe when I watch these things, even if I’m scrambling in the back of my mind to find the words I’ll need to remember what I’m experiencing. Sex! If all other things can be described in a million ways, then sex can be described in a million more. I feel selfish unless I cryptically (or explicitly) share these things with him, you, her, or simply just the ocean! I would scream words to the ocean if no one else would listen. It’s simply better this way: I write the way I’ll kiss you in my head before push into you and that story becomes real. Do you feel it in my tongue and the way I wish it were a pen? I want to write a story in your mouth. Or do you feel it in the way I read you as though you were braille? I want to know the author of every bumped scar on your skin.
There, that’s something I never told anyone before.
Melissa Cooke is a graduate from the University of Wisconsin in fine arts. She creates what can only be referred to as graphite paintings, as she states ” I create my work by applying thin layers of powdered graphite to paper with a dry brush.” The effect is amazing, the end result is a hyper realistic drawing.
Finally… a piece of art that inspired me to make my first specific tag for my favorite artwork.