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Swimming, One Day in August by Mary Oliver

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Hi guys i deleted the previous selfie cuz a random prn blog liked it and followed me like almost immediately. Cleansing my space. Hello again

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Appaaarentlyyy life shrinks or expands according to one's courage. What the fuck right

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Kinda sick of trembling in fear ngl. I would rly love to just not be so bothered

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— Philip Larkin, “Here”, in The Whitsun Weddings

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perfect patch of light in prospect park today

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Brooklyn, June 2025

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if i dont awaken the power of the dragon its all over for me

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Constellations of summer, Alvin Ng

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These days, all I talk about and think about is the cognitive dissonance required to move through the world. Increasingly, I struggle to disentangle my many selves, to get on with the day. All my selves weep often. I try to have grace. I tell my friends that I’m no longer sure how anyone just drifts through the days, the months, without acknowledging the horrors. I imagine what it must be like to be able to turn off the parts of the world that unsettle you. It must feel like existing in an animated universe that adheres to cartoon physics: you fall from an inconceivable height and, landing, a cloud of dust billows up from the ground, but then you shake yourself off and keep moving.

Hanif Abdurraqib, from Zohran Mamdani and Mahmoud Khalil are in on the Joke

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i'm always operating under the belief that if i listen to enough music something will happen

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Old Man Eating Alone in a Chinese Restaurant

by Billy Collins

I am glad I resisted the temptation, if it was a temptation when I was young, to write a poem about an old man eating alone at a corner table in a Chinese restaurant.

I would have gotten it all wrong thinking: the poor bastard, not a friend in the world and with only a book for a companion. He'll probably pay the bill out of a change purse.

So glad I waited all these decades to record how hot and sour the hot and sour soup is here at Chang's this afternoon and how cold the Chinese beer in a frosted glass.

And my book — José Saramago's Blindness as it turns out — is so absorbing that I look up from its escalating horrors only when I am stunned by one of his gleaming sentences.

And I should mention the light that falls through the big windows this time of day italicizing everything it touches — the plates and teapots, the immaculate tablecloths,

as well as the soft brown hair of the waitress in the white blouse and short black skirt, the one who is smiling now as she bears a cup of rice and shredded beef with garlic to my favorite table in the corner.

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Can we tho?!

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i love everything yipeeeyaayyyyyy

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Evening Moon - Gerald Dewsbury

British , b. 1957 -

Oil on canvas board , 13 x 18 cm.