Katie, don’t you die down here. I’ll never forgive myself if you do.
geometric games (by crosslens)
"The Girl Who Takes Up Too Much Space, always, her shoulders too wide in stairwells, her hips too big in doorways, her voice too loud in classes. This woman does not understand the art of crumbling, of curling herself tight like the spiral of a fern, soft, delicate, unwilling to reach out the ivy of her fingers to grasp onto what should rightfully be hers. This is a beast, an elephant, a moving mountain and she is capable of flattening you, she is capable of ruining you, she is capable of making you feel as small and insignificant in her life as she is supposed to be. You are this woman’s footnote to history, you are her side note in song lyrics, you are constantly interrupted by her with a witty joke you wish you thought of. I asked what the problem was with being a steamroller instead of a sunflower and I was laughed down.” - (inkskinned)
inspired by (x)
"My name is Sarah Manning and this is my unconditional surrender."
THIS SHOULD BE WRITTEN IN THE PRESENT TENSE by Helle Helle
‘Why does one always read Helle Helle’s books about the seemingly humdrum lives of lonely, sleepless women in the back of beyond with the kind of obsession normally reserved for well-turned thrillers?’ Politiken
By one of the Denmark’s foremost and most popular novelists comes This Should Be Written in the Present Tense.
Abstract seems to work best for this book. Shown here are the various designs that were worked up for the jacket, the design with the coloured stripes being the one finally chosen.
This mesmerizing novel will published in November by Harvill Secker.
The Proclone Wears Prada
There is this odd trend
of taken women
saying they are too much,
and how the men they love
are amazing for dealing with them.
Love should not be a responsibility.
You should not have to deal with me.
Just because a woman is wild
does not mean she is difficult.
He is not a martyr for loving me
through the good
and not so good.
Some mornings I will wake up swinging,
you do not get a gold star
for still loving me.
Some mornings I will wake up like a lamb,
you do not get a gold star
for loving me.
I am not a hurricane of a girl,
you always have the chance to leave.
- purposefully forget their names
- any time yr talking about anything outside the realm of COD, energy drinks, or football, pause and giggle and say “oh, but sorry - you wouldn’t know anything about this, right? we can change the subject”
- extension on #1: call him by the name of another boy w the same hair color as him. when he protests, laugh and act like he’s trying to trick u
- "hold this." stop acknowledging him for the remainder of the encounter until it is time to collect you bag/purse/coat/etc
- "sorry, what? i wasn’t listening" rinse and repeat
- tilt yr head. make a cute face. “awwwwww”
the boy tears in the notes are amazing
"a forest" is a self-published photo zine by Fabrizo Musu. Featuring 28 pages of images chasing the feeling of isolation and introspection, he captures ephemeral moments of urban life in black and white.
"But to lose oneself in a city - as one loses oneself in a forest - that calls for a quite different schooling. Then, signboard and street names, passers-by, roofs, kiosks, or bars must speak to the wanderer like a crackling twig under his feet in a forest." -Walter Benjamin
Get a copy here.
Maria Clara Eimmart, Ten Depictions of Heavenly Phenomena, (late 17th century)
Eimmart was the daughter of the history painter, portraitist and amateur astronomer Georg Christoph Eimmart, with whom she collaborated. Her father was director of the Malerakademie in Nürnberg but also established a private observatory. She was given a broad education in the fine arts, and specialized in botanical and astronomical illustrations. She made a series of some 350 drawings of lunar phases, observed by telescope, and captured on distinctive blue paper. Twelve of these were given to conte Marsili, a scientific collaborator with her father, of those twelve, ten survive in Bologna. She shortly thereafter married her father’s pupil and successor, the astronomer Johann Heinrich Müller and died in childbirth.
whenever i get an essay assignment i immediately go “how can i work a feminist and anti capitalist rant into this”