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Hot Day

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Here's some better pictures of the jacket I bought and painted so you can actually tell what the colors are

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I-is that….

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I was at a Black Lives Matter protest when this woman ran her car through the group of protesters. A 71-year-old man was hit on his bike, which was destroyed under this woman’s car. We have her face and a picture of her plate number.

When the police were called they said “We thought you didn’t want us here” and never showed up. The Taylor police department was literally right down the street where the protest was. They did nothing. And according to the Twitter of Trilogybeats, when the did show up, they started harassing the protesters: https://twitter.com/trilogybeats/status/1273034091533918210

Tumblr, do your thing.

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girl i can make your penis bark

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Stargazing

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The Holy Face (La sainte face), James Tissot

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1. The Lovers of Valdaro are a 6,000 year old Neolithic skeleton couple who were found buried together in Mantua, Italy. 

 They were both around 20, both 5′2, and had no physical trauma evident in their bones. They were buried with flint tools. Their limbs are entwined in an endless embrace.

2. The Hasanlu Lovers are 2,800 year skeletons found locked in an eternal kiss in Solduz Valley, Iran. 

 The body on its back was around 20 years old, and the other skeleton was around 30 and showed signs of injury on the right side of their body. They were found in a plaster grain bin, most likely hiding from soldiers in a raid, and asphyxiated during this time.

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“I’m not a stable person, and often I encounter great difficulties in life, which often seems quite unbearable. There’s nothing I can do about that. But I love the world and life itself, and, even when in pain, I still have the pleasure of feeling part of a cosmic movement.”

— Hermann Hesse, from a letter to Volkmar Andreae written c. March 1913

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and so then this is how it will end, won't it be? Without even the righteous indignity of a blazing pyre. without even the kindness of offering those few left behind a proper burial for their grievances. trudging onward unceasing and without being able to tell it has long since ended.

i suppose i do not blame you for still walking these tired paths. you are young, little child. not nearly old as you think you are. tiny little moments collapsed onto a heap of memories and you call yourselves civilization when you are not even yet civilized. regressing. i do not blame you, little child. it can be difficult to tell when an age has passed and a new cycle has begun.

oh. but how beautiful it is those who listen to the twirling pirouette of that great wheel. yearning deep inside of them something twists and everything that they were can no longer be acceptable. fighting a world that on all levels but your own myopic grand mistakes agrees with them. it is so beautiful. the tragic blindness of martyrs in modernity. they will be remembered into antiquity but they will take little solace in it i am guessing.

and so this is how it will end, dear sweet little child. it will end slowly at first and then all at once. like a sunset suddenly sinking its last sliver of star beneath the flat curving expanse of endless horizon, and the light still curls around the sky in reds and pinks and fussy oranges, and then you blink and it is night. you will learn to acknowledge this new night in the end,

and when you do, when you can only imagine stars and darkness and the smiling changing moon, there will be those martyrs once again, heralding the pregnant sky to bloom and blush in all the shades of a newborn sunrise, and your world will be so bathed in light again with nothing changing at all. isn't that beautiful my child? so helpless. so pointless. yet still so worthy a battle to fight.

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“QUILTING”

For February in the Taproot Magazine 2016 calendar.

Watercolor, collage, colored pencil. Phoebe Wahl, 2015.

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Leigh Ruple - Friendship, 2020

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Black Live Matter, Seattle