February 2012
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Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes
That was the strange mine of souls. As secret ores of silver they passed like veins through its darkness. Between the roots blood welled, flowing onwards to Mankind, and it looked as hard as Porphyry in the darkness. Otherwise nothing was red. There were cliffs and straggling woods. Bridges over voids, and that great grey blind lake, that hung above its distant floor like a rain-filled sky above...
“Jason Derulo.”
– Sylvia Plath (via incorrectsylviaplathquotes)
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Literally the Best Thing Ever: Joni Mitchell →
all of my feelings about joni mitchell summed up right here.
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Snowed In
Tyrone lies beside her in bed reading Tolstoy, in trouble again with the church despite being dead one hundred years. Anna’s back curves like the half moon of winter. Tyrone watches with stupid tears as she places her clear fingernails lightly beneath his ache as if she were touching an altar of driftwood.
Gary Percesepe
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EVERYTHING IS CONFUSING AND EVERYTHING HURTS
“And yet a woman’s weight is seen by American culture as an outward manifestation...”
– Everybody, Every Body: the Media’s Erasure of Fat Girls
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