#ah-ah

[apoemaday]

Ah-Ah

by Joy Harjo

Ah, ah cries the crow arching toward the heavy sky over the marina. Lands on the crown of the palm tree.

Ah, ah slaps the urgent cove of ocean swimming through the slips. We carry canoes to the edge of the salt.

Ah, ah groans the crew with the weight, the winds cutting skin. We claim our seats. Pelicans perch in the draft for fish.

Ah, ah beats our lungs and we are racing into the waves. Though there are worlds below us and above us, we are straight ahead.

Ah, ah tattoos the engines of your plane against the sky — away from these waters. Each paddle stroke follows the curve from reach to loss.

Ah, ah calls the sun from a fishing boat with a pale, yellow sail. We fly by on our return, over the net of eternity thrown out for stars.

Ah, ah scrapes the hull of my soul. Ah, ah.

[aceofspades-11b]

Ah-ah, ah! Ah-ah, ah!

My new fav tp is breaking into the immigrant song every now and then and jumpscare @ozziesdisco

[pressedink]

i can’t stop listening to

[str8aura-no-not-that-one]

looking down a list of old Squirrel Girl outfits and realizing how much she likes her Black and Yellow

[unstablebill]

I've been scream laughing at this for several days

[arowrath]

[mangozic]

my dead goth son and his friendly neighborhood personified concept of insanity

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[o0kawaii0o]

ROMANCE DAWN TRIO

[bibbysstuff]

do not worry im still gonna draw them silly and cute together teehee

[yesokayiknow]

i hope that sometimes fifteen's psychic paper shorts out and shows what fourteen's thinking back on earth. he tries to sneak in somewhere and the guard's like this just says 'need to pick up cat food'? and fifteen's like 🥺 they got a cat

[teeth--king]

Whoops, another wave of burnout and health hit while I was in the middle of this but hey I finally finished it. Got my first moss rain and it nearly gave me a panic attack, why the hell was Elliott so chill about it. Green!

[slushy-sash]

very important research

[dangeroustaintedflawed]

emma roberts’ street style ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[brookheimer]

favorite thing ab chatgpt is that if it doesn’t know something it’ll just start fucking lying. like blatantly fucking lying.

my dad teaches english classes and he just got a final paper with this sentence: “In terms of style, both poets are known for their use of imagery, but O'Hara's tends to be more straightforward and concrete, while Stevens' is often more abstract and metaphorical — for example, in O'Hara's poem "The French / Window," he writes: "A cat walks along the garden wall / and the tree waves its branches / The French / windows are blah" (lines 1-4).”

the thing about “The French / Window” is that it is not a poem that exists. at all. like, it was literally just written by chatgpt then inexplicably named as a famous frank o’hara poem. and it’s so. fucking. funny. sooo basically heads up for finals season — those of you who use chatgpt, be warned, because you will quite literally be citing nonexistent texts and your professors will show it to their daughters and together they will laugh at you endlessly and you will deserve it

[reineydraws]

this is a scene from opla s2, black leg gazpacho told me himself!!!

src by @op-trash-blog-of-hell