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Weed is out in 2025 ladies but it's still in I'll let you know when it's not

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god forbid a woman is boring and a low achiever and likes to drink

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Ash Ode

by Dean Young

When I saw you ahead I ran two blocks shouting your name then realizing it wasn’t you but some alarmed pretender, I went on running, shouting now into the sky, continuing your fame and luster. Since I’ve been incinerated, I’ve oft returned to this thought, that all things loved are pursued and never caught, even as you slept beside me you were flying off. At least what’s never had can’t be lost, the sieve of self stuck with just some larger chunks, jawbone, wedding ring, a single repeated dream, a lullaby in every elegy, descriptions of the sea written in the desert, your broken umbrella, me claiming I could fix it.

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Alice Notley, "The Poetry of Everyday Life" (1988)

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Shiina Ringo.

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bro i could fuck up a perfectly good thing right now

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I will clean my room in a neutral or perhaps even masculine way

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My resolution is to play toys every day and learn a 3rd energy attack

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like um yeah but i dont really see how that's relevant

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reading in bed. painting by marta astrain.

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Me

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“At night the madness goes for my throat.”

— Christa Wolf, Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays (tr. Jan van Heurck)

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Annie Oakley’s heart target (One of Oakley’s most popular stunts was shooting through the center of a small, inch-wide heart on a card from around 40 feet away.)

Photograph by Annie Leibovitz, Pilgrimage (Random House, 2011)

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‘thin ice made over two days welded with water from dripping ice hollow inside’ dumfriesshire 1987 in a collaboration with nature - andy goldsworthy (1990)

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“The woman who checks her makeup half a dozen times a day to see if her foundation has caked or her mascara has run, who worries that the wind or the rain may spoil her hairdo, who looks frequently to see if her stockings have bagged at the ankle or who, feeling fat, monitors everything she eats, has become, just as surely as the inmate of the Panopticon, a self-policing subject, a self committed to a relentless self-surveillance. This self-surveillance is a form of obedience to patriarchy. It is also the reflection in woman’s consciousness of the fact that she is under surveillance in ways that he is not, that whatever else she may become, she is importantly a body designed to please or to excite.”

— Sandra Lee Bartky, “Foucault, Femininity, and the Modernization of Patriarchal Power”