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I’m so tired of procrastinating and waiting and waiting and waiting to be competent with little check boxes full of my competence my brain my mind my tick tick tick tick every time that hand moves another line is drawn (second hand minute hand my right hand)

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what flavour is the moon?

It tastes like hard work,

fomo,

trying to make rent,

deathnote, lost, and competitive reality tv

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when people my age make films about how depressing and lame it is to be doing nothing in your mid 20s im like well you just directed a movie so you cant possibly understand

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James, my love...

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I am asking you to endure it.

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his reed richards graying at the temples makes me 🤤🤤

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Extruding pasta

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Patron Saint of Lost Keys and Small Things.

Proposed by @meganmannartgallery

Reminded me of this poem by Elizabeth Bishop.

One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident the art of losing’s not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

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I Spy Fantasy: A Book of Picture Riddles, photographs by Walter Wick

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fakemink summer

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everyone more pretentious than me is an insufferable poseur and everyone less pretentious than me is a clueless philistine

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u ever have a stress dream so crazy u wake up feelin like scrooge being given a second chance at life

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@allunderthesamesky