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when I was a kid I wished I had nosebleeds. I had some friends who had them and I was like. that looks so fucking cool. you're just sitting there and suddenly you're covered in blood. it looks so dramatic. it looks so... and here my language failed me. at such a humble age I did not have the vocabulary to describe the sublime. I just sat in incomprehensible jealousy. I turned out totally normal by the way

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DEVON AOKI as SUKI 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS (2003) dir. John Singleton

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The US military budget is larger than the military spending of the next nine largest countries combined. We're pumping huge amounts of money to the defense industry as Republicans plan devastating cuts to the social safety net through their budget bill. It does not have to be this way. This is all a policy choice.

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The green haze

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American Poetry by Brendon Burton

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Woman in Bed, John Singer Sargent, 1872, Harvard Art Museums: Drawings

The verso shows erasures. Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Gift of Mrs. Francis Ormond Size: 11.3 x 15.6 cm (4 7/16 x 6 1/8 in.) Medium: Graphite on off-white wove paper

https://www.harvardartmuseums.org/collections/object/197639

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snoopy of the day

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— Holes, Eileen Myles, from ‘I Must Be Living Twice, New & Selected Poems 1975-2014’

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idk who needs to hear this but if you have been putting something off bc it doesn't need to be done until the end of the month. we are almost done with the teens we are approaching the big numbers (the twenties). that date shall dawn upon you swiftly and without mercy before you know it. psa for everyone except me i got plany off time

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Green Wheat Fields (1890) by Vincent van Gogh

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guys. i really like you. it's nice to be on this dashboard together

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The Simple Truth

I bought a dollar and a half's worth of small red potatoes, took them home, boiled them in their jackets and ate them for dinner with a little butter and salt. Then I walked through the dried fields on the edge of town. In middle June the light hung on in the dark furrows at my feet, and in the mountain oaks overhead the birds were gathering for the night, the jays and mockers squawking back and forth, the finches still darting into the dusty light. The woman who sold me the potatoes was from Poland; she was someone out of my childhood in a pink spangled sweater and sunglasses praising the perfection of all her fruits and vegetables at the road-side stand and urging me to taste even the pale, raw sweet corn trucked all the way, she swore, from New Jersey. "Eat, eat" she said, "Even if you don't I'll say you did." Some things you know all your life. They are so simple and true they must be said without elegance, meter and rhyme, they must be laid on the table beside the salt shaker, the glass of water, the absence of light gathering in the shadows of picture frames, they must be naked and alone, they must stand for themselves. My friend Henri and I arrived at this together in 1965 before I went away, before he began to kill himself, and the two of us to betray our love. Can you taste what I'm saying? It is onions or potatoes, a pinch of simple salt, the wealth of melting butter, it is obvious, it stays in the back of your throat like a truth you never uttered because the time was always wrong, it stays there for the rest of your life, unspoken, made of that dirt we call earth, the metal we call salt, in a form we have no words for, and you live on it.

— Philip Levine, "The Simple Truth" in "The Simple Truth: Poems" (Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group; September 3, 1996)

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sold

it turned out so beautifully 🥹

and the plum blossoms show which way the lid fits 🌸