ccrowdedmind
299 posts
I'm giving up my personhood to become an abstract concept | mathematics student.
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Me in high school: yeah physics and math have a crazy amount of overlap and, you know, in a lot of ways, they talk about the same thing.
Me now, a physics major asking a math major something: I'm sorry what the actual fuck did you just say? What are those words? Why are you speaking like this? Can't you just explain it with numbers?
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My version of flirting is looking at someone I find attractive multiple times and hoping they're braver than me.
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the assurance "nobody is judging you" is straight up false... people ARE judging you and you have to find a way to be ok w it
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the idealized version of my tomorrow self will fix this
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Fidelia Bridges (American,1835-1924)
A Cottage Garden, 1907
watercolor on paper
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i love not being everywhere, i love missing out on things
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Details: breaking waves from paintings by Jeanne Smith.
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Kaveh Akbar, from “Thirstiness is not Equal Division”, Calling a Wolf a Wolf
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Penguins new ad campaign celebrates well-read books




This new ad campaign from Penguin appeals to those of us who think beat-up, torn, taped, scribbled-upon books are more appealing than pristine ones. I wondered if the books photographed here were found as is, or lovingly distressed by the art director, then I saw the small print in the lower right of each ad, which suggests they were found that way.
https://boingboing.net/2019/07/05/penguins-new-ad-campaign-celeb.html
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forever haunted by hozier's face when he sings "put me back in it" (and by haunted i mean i'm clawing my eyes out)
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“Truthfully, this is the fabric of all my fantasies: love shown not by a kiss or a wild look or a careful hand but by a willingness for research. I don’t dream of someone who understands me immediately, who seems to have known me my entire life, who says, I know me too. I want someone keen to learn my own strange organization, amazed at what’s revealed; someone who asks, and then what, and then what?
From The Giant’s House, Elizabeth McCracken
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'abstract (psychopomp)' by hozier but you've pulled over on a highway while a thunderstorm is about to roll over and you're watching the cars rush past, remembering what it means to be alive
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Maybe the real numbers are the limits we converged to along the way
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we’re all boring to someone, annoying to someone, ugly to someone, but it’s not that deep
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