dankdesert-blog

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crying every day because people are hateful fucks, I'm "too sensitive" for this earth, and women *still* don't have the same rights and privileges as men

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Stevie Nicks photographed by Neal Preston, Laurel Canyon, 1981.

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“Satan’s Rhapsody” (1920) - Nino Oxilia

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I wish I had the right words, or the right timing or could make just one sliver of sense of all this. I watched the mother of your child as she ripped the grass from the ground ten feet from where you drew your last breath on this earth. Her wails filled the air and it felt like my heart had stopped. Some of us stood and some of us crouched in a circle around her because she didn’t want to be touched in that moment and all we could do was surround her. If our sadness and heart break had been a shape, it would have been the circle we drew with our bodies to protect and encase her. How terrible to experience the loss of your best friend, your lover, your partner, the one dude who always stood true for others even when he couldn’t for himself, who hated himself to the point of destroying himself, but could love others in a way unimaginably gentle and sincere and meaningful.

^^^ Whoa, I just discovered this in my drafts. I remember writing this when you died, I remember every single moment and second of discovering we had finally lost you forever after feeling like you’d been teetering on the edge of a cliff for months. The tears we all shed, the whiskey we all drank, the cigarettes we all smoked, the dove who hovered above the entire time on a branch, watching us, tilting it’s head to get a better look. Was that you? Time was standing still. Was that dove you? You were a bird in a way. Are you a bird now? I wish I could wash away the memory of seeing your face the last time, how very very not alive you were. How very very not alive it felt to see your closed eyes and open mouth. You died looking at the heavens above and I have prayed it was easy. I have prayed your daughter remembers how much you love her. How it is our duty to always remind her. How above all else you loved her, how some of your last words were about her and how you wanted to see her. She is you. Seeing her is harder than just about anything, for she is you. You, who knew not where you came from or who your biological parents were, you made a tiny thing in this world that will forever carry on. She is mighty and she is the brightest star that’s ever shined in this dark world. Some days I miss you terribly, some days I’m still pissed, and others I sigh a sigh of relief that you aren’t hurting any more. Your death is a powerful marker of time for me. I wish it wasn’t. This year has gone by quickly and remembering our last encounter two days before you died is something I will forever hold on to. You said everything would be alright. And boy were you right.

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snax for the next few daze

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Paolo Sebastian Spring 2016 Couture Collection

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My husband makes cool videos of me

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Haaaahaha

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Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too was a gift.

Mary Oliver (via wordsnquotes)

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What is it

about altering your state of mind that makes things all too clear.

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Photos: cc https://www.flickr.com/photos/ckorange/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/