Hang in there. Hang in there.
Catherine thought about the lake at night. She thought about the view from the bottom. Half tucked into the silt and looking up. She imagined the roots and reeds catching moonlight or the dull glow of a passing boat. She had seen strands of her own hair under a microscope in science class. She was reminded of their detail as she imagined the lake. She kicked the covers off her feet and let them grow cold. She imagined them in the dark water and felt a longing to hear more than just the motor on passing boats. A longing to hear each word of conversation between boaters…or to hear their thoughts. Sometimes Catherine imagined she was a discarded bottle. Green glass and no label remaining. Hollow and abandoned. She wondered if the person who threw her into the water felt remorse. For littering or for not reusing. For not placing her on a windowsill or picnic table with a flower inside her. Other times, Catherine was one of the teenagers who she was told ‘went off to college’. Catherine found it hard to think of a world.outside this town. In her mind, everyone and everything was either in or out of the water. Catherine thought about the lake and pressed her hands into her thighs. Soon she would be asleep. #nightwalk
#sierraswan #goodsoldier #emotional
I am so grateful for my friends and their talents and beautiful hearts.
Henry looked at the photograph closely. He loved returning to his medical books years later. Mostly on winter weekends with a glass of scotch and a fire in the fireplace. As a single man, his days off were quiet and filled with thoughts. His medical.books comforted him. Several of them outdated, but soft and comforting like a favorite blanket or t-shirt. So many high gloss pages filled with potent images and information about the human body. How each piece worked. How each piece was connected. How each needed the others…for the most part. How no one knew what the soul was, or where it slept inside us, but that somewhere between the heart and brain, we agreed it was real. An energy if nothing else. Henry felt that his soul moved around. On this day it was tucked beside his heart, like a visitor at a sick friends’ bedside. Henry missed learning. He missed not knowing. He missed feeling hopeful about his future. Over the years as a doctor and surgeon, he had saved and transformed hundreds of lives. None of them were his own. He thought about the red tissue and the blue of the blood before oxygen met it. He sipped his scotch and touch the slick pages. The fire crackled. His soul tried to comfort his heart while his mind got drunk and thought about women he would never know. It was another Saturday at home for Henry. Snow outside and everything he had worked for still not keeping him as warm as love would. #nightwalk
It wasn’t what Gwen had expected when Lou invited her to his house, but she learned an important lesson doing it. When Lou did not bring out his sketches and instead dropped his pants and came at her, Gwen learned the subtlties of men’s communication. ‘Sketches’ means ‘Penis’ and ‘hang out’ means ‘get as far inside you as I can before never seeing you again’. Now that things were more clear, she was ready to face the world with more clarity. Her ‘dude to english’ dictionary and a knife disguised as a hairbrush made Gwen feel pretty damned sexy. She knew exactly what she was going to wear to the next office party and was excited. She also kept the photo of Lou with his pants down on her phone and laptop and hard drive, in case her ever claimed to be a fucking ‘artist’ in her presence again. #nightwalk
Elephants around chedi at Kamphaeng Phet Historical Park / Thailand (by laperlenoire).
🌴 Jungle blog 🌴
hi there. your statement inspires many thoughts and more than a few questions. i think you’re referring to my response to the anon message “not very cyberpunk-ish you stupid poseur”. if not, i apologize for misunderstanding. as far as “can’t handle” is concerned, i thought i handled it pretty well. someone offered an unsolicited opinion of my blog and followed it with an insult. i thought my response was both gracious and humorous.
i probably won’t change my blog simply because someone doesn’t think it’s “cyberpunk enough”, and i don’t feel the need to prove to anyone that i am not a “poseur” or even “stupid”. but i can assure you my credentials are more than adequate.
and i disagree that “people like me are what’s terrible about tumblr”. i think people like me are part of what’s awesome about tumblr. and the world. and there are a lot of people like me here. people who want to share their interests with others, people who might have limited access to the outside world, people who find it hard to fit in, people who are making an effort to live another day in what can be a terribly cruel and confusing world, and people who enjoy collecting and sharing images/music/information related to subjects they find interesting.
my blog is just another blog on just another website. it’s easy to ignore. if i don’t like what someone posts on their blog i don’t follow it. it’s not their job to change what they want to do to accommodate my interests or opinions.
in closing, i’d like to leave you with one of my favorite quotes from the great american president benjamin franklin: “in a few years, tumblr will go the way of myspace and friendster and nobody will give a shit”.
I love my husband so fucking much.
Lola stopped to look up. The others kept moving: their feet, their lips, their arms and hips. But Lola stopped. She looked into the light above her. She removed her hands from her jacket pockets and reached upwards. Her arms joined other arms and the light flared. Lola felt the world go quiet. As if she were in a movie about space or perhaps having a memory of the womb… There was only a silence seasoned with a faint heartbeat. She felt both a lightness and a pressure. Her arms became long and something inside her opened. A voice she knew but had never heard before whispered, ‘I’ve got you… Don’t worry. I’ve got you’. Lola felt as though she were being swung by her arms by someone stronger than herself. She closed her eyes and wrote the words, ‘thank you’ in the black behind her eyelids. #nightwalk