I Gotta Ask, How Do People, Like, Do Stuff???

The pit 🥚

another random epiphany i had on my drive home from the store was that things that are the most obvious often feel the most profound. i was looking at the sunset through my window. i was like “this is beautiful and it changes all the time so every sunset is a little different and also beautiful.” which led me to think “if you look at the earth from space, the clouds are never pink or blue or yellow or orange, they are just white and grey all the time. in space perhaps the sunsets are not very different or very beautiful.” which led me to think “the sunsets are only beautiful because i am so small.” which led me to think “so many things are only beautiful because i am so small, or if not only then they are at least much more beautiful than they might otherwise be, either because my vantage point of smallness allows me to see details that big things wouldn’t see, like when i see the flash of the sun at sunset with my little eyes on this big planet, or because my briefness finds vastness so incredible cuz it’s so much bigger than me, like when i sit under a very very old and very very tall tree.” and this was all somewhat obvious but it didn’t make the feeling of epiphany go away or diminish at all

intangible - madisen kuhn

Jane O. Wayne // Kate Jacobs

you can simultaneously be appreciative for your education and critical of it, just because public education is full of propaganda and higher education is stealing your money doesn’t mean you shouldn’t fully take advantage of it if you can, learn everything possible and use it to Fuck Shit Up

write in textbooks, cause a ruckus, read stories you hate in english class and figure out why you hate them, ace your math test and forget everything you studied, use coloured pens, quiet rebellion is important too

I owe the healing to myself and the little girl in me with big dreams.

What are some of your favorite poems/pieces of writing?

general disclaimer that im much less well-read as my carefully curated internet persona might lead on... but these are some pieces of writing that make up the mycelium network of my mind’s undergrowth:

tim riggins speaks of waterfalls - nico alvarado

as from a quiver of arrows - carl phillips 

what the dragon said: a love story - c. valente

hunting season - steven chung

yes, think - ruth stone

from blossom - li-young lee

psalm - dorianne laux

sleeping in hte forest - mary oliver

percy wakes me (fourteen) - mary oliver

here there are blueberries - mary szybist

try to praise the mutilated world - adam zagajewski

de profundis - christina rosetti

new bones - lucille clifton

morning love poem - tara skurtu

forfeiting my mystique - kaveh akbar

that kind of good - natalie wee

the mower - philip larkin

valentine - carol ann duffy

happiness from paul schmidtberger’s design flaws of the human condition

we ate the birds - margaret atwood

i want to tell you yes - kallie falandays

ode to buttoning and unbuttoning my shirt - ross gay

not the beloved from anne carson’s erso the bittersweet

after the movie - marie howe

accident report in the tall, tall weeds - ada limón

in tennessee i found a firefly - mary szybist

when i put my hands on your body - david wojnarowicz

the mystery of grocery carts - john olson

your night is of lilac - mahmoud darwish

a dead thing that, in dying, feeds the living - donika kelly

please read - mary ruefle

dudes, we did not go through the hassle of getting these fake ids for this jukebox to not have any springsteen - hanif andurraquib

we lived happily during the war - ilya kaminsky

while the child sleeps - ilya kaminsky

the forgotten dialect of the heart - jack gilbert

what the living do - marie howe

eleven - sandra cisneros

revolutionary letter #4 - diane di prima

elegy for my sadness - chen chen

Sarah Kay, No Matter the Wreckage; “Postcards”

“Art differs from nature not in its organic form, but in its human origins: in the fact that it is not God or a machine that makes a work of art, but an individual with his instincts and intuitions, with his sensibility and his mind, searching relentlessly for the perfection that is neither in mind nor in nature, but in the unknown. I do not mean this in an other-worldly sense, only that the form of the flower is unknown to the seed.”

— Herbert Read, The Origins of Art (via mesogeios)

Adhd really is like… bedroom is slightly messy it would be nice to tidy it some

bedroom is very messy I really should tidy up

bedroom is chaotic I NEED to tidy but my brain says no. Why. Whyyy.

I guess I’ll just have to watch where I step in here for the rest of my life. The mess is everywhere. I’m one with the mess.

A sudden Need to Clean™ makes you get the room looking like some fancy homes magazine cover, and you think “I’ll never ever let it get that bad again, and then…

bedroom is slightly messy (uh oh)