lauvra - Tumblr blog

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What can you say about how The Ghoul regards Lucy, this do-right vault dweller, when they cross paths? [...] She's a sheltered moral person because she had access to security and safety and resources in a vault setting, third or fourth or fifth generation, living underground in these secure environments and the rest of us were left to die on the surface. (x)

Dude really just said "Cooper put Lucy in a jar to study and shake her"

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you would fuck that old man. i would fuck that old man. we are the same. hold my hand

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Poéme Maudit (detail) by Santiago Caruso, 2013

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Another year, another group of my delightful ninth graders trying to spell the word "tragedy" for their Romeo and Juliet assignment.

Last year's collection

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mundane tasks like wiping down surfaces & folding the laundry can be spiritual practices and even blessings if we allow them to be

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Don’t you dare shrink yourself for someone else’s comfort. Do not become small for people who refuse to grow.

Steve Maraboli

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now that im going to be a proper published poet i gotta clean up my act. no more threatening suicide on social media

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— Margaret Atwood, from “Power Politics.”

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I want to write about the worst parts of myself for a reason. There are still some aspects I haven't found my correct expression for, but I think even though we say and believe that every idea or characteristic has been expressed in every way possible at times - this idea that everything has already been said - ultimately that's a brilliant lie we use as an excuse to validate our fears that we have nothing new to contribute. If we don't try, we wont fail. There are so many things people do they still wont admit to, and perhaps shouldn't and so to see it in print or playing on the radio comes as a consolation. When someone like Olivia Rodrigo writes a pop song about compulsively stalking the ex girlfriend of her new partner, that's so relatable yet something we really struggle to confess to because it is creepy, it is self-destructive, we know it isn't healthy and it's a habit that begins so casually with an innocent tinge of curiosity but can so easily become an act of compulsion. It traverses the framework of genuine concern and quickly becomes an act of self harm. We share these horrible things with close friends but we don't speak openly often on it. It's unprecedented in our understanding of human history to have so much access to the broadcasted lives of others but this is where we are, and these are the tools we have access to, and this is something a lot of us have wrestled with in modernity. I spoke to someone recently who told me after their last big relationship breakdown, they hadn't stalked the online profiles of their ex partner once because they made a commitment to themselves that they wouldn't and I think that's rare and admirable. I really do. I made that commitment to myself after that conversation, because the reason it came up was that I'd made myself sad that night checking up on an old flame when I knew better. If you legitimately have concern about somebody, it can be really difficult to resist looking, you decide there's a nobility in it but when you ground yourself in the knowledge that you're no longer part of each other's lives for a reason and there's nothing you could do to be again a place of consolation for that person in any case, you realise quickly there's no point in knowing how they're doing and you're really only looking to hurt yourself, which you don't deserve. When you accept that you don't deserve to be tortured, you stop torturing yourself under the guise of curiosity or caring. I talk about pop music a fair bit because it's the genre that makes millions of us dance to pain. I've said it a thousand times but I'll never stop referencing Stayin' Alive by the BeeGees, it's my favourite example of a desperately sad song lyrically that is so difficult to stay still to. You're consoled emotionally, held and freed. Pop music isn't shallow, you'll never convince me it's a genre with no meaning.

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Saul Leiter

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Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova: Seventh Book; from ‘Let whoever wants to, relax in the south...' tr. Judith Hemschemeyer

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MECHANISM OF NORMAL HEART [1930]

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Mark Rothko, Untitled. 1969 Ink on paper The National Gallery of Art (Washington, D.C.) Gift of The Mark Rothko Foundation, Inc.

© Kate Rothko Prizel and Christopher Rothko / ARS

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People who don’t know anything

Will always parrot the words of someone who appeared to say something.