By Gustave Doré (French, 1832-1883).

when will we as a society branch out from white sheets for ghosts. where’s the self-expression, where is the drama. when will i get the couture bedsheet looks i deserve

thinking about life & its twists and turns today……a lot for an armadillo to deal with but i’ll be okay………….

Prague, 2010

hey guys so like apparently the characters from “its rotten work / not to me, not if its you” are cousins so maybe lets stop framing that in a romantic light and grouping that quote with those edits about love and stuff like that =(

“Does God hang out in Greyhound bus stations? I’d like to find him. I’d like to make him cry.”

— Sara Sutterlin, from I Wanted to Be the Knife [Extended Edition]

I bestow upon thee; concept playlists

•classical music to sip tea to while contemplating philosophy and the next marble bust you’ll buy

•stealing books from the Oxford library with friends you never thought you’d find, in the snow, yelling about Ovid, lighting candles

•folky music for sitting on your front porch in the lazy evening sun, surrounded by your closest friends, gazing at a wheat field and singing along with a guitar in your arms

•feeling listless; like you’re walking the world alone, wandering with no destination, held in the arms of the earth and happy with that

•songs to sing LOUD in the car on a road trip going nowhere in particular

•staring out the window of a quaint coffee shop, watching the raindrops cling to the glass and thinking of all the poetry you’re going to write for that lover you left behind

•looking back on a long relationship and realizing all the ups and downs you’ve had as one, suddenly seeing it all in slow motion like a silent film

•laying back on your bed, smiling uncontrollably, thinking of all the beautiful, bucolic times you’re going to have in the sun with that person you can’t stop thinking of

•a rock in your rib-cage, sobbing on the floor, feeling empty; things are coming to an end and you can’t bear to see them go

•the first day of summer – sprawling yourself in the green & vivacious grass, heart shaped sunglasses perched on your nose; youth in all its glory

•songs that bring back days of your old glory, reliving your childhood and your golden days, tracing over the old scars and remembering how you got them

•the smell of old books, melancholy, songs that are so potent with a sort of wild and tragic longing that they’re almost dangerous

•looking out a car window; letting your eyes cling to weeping trees and then letting them snap back again. feeling self centered and tragical.

•literally just songs that remind me of Oscar Wilde and Bosie Douglas

•stuff that i’m listening to right now! always changing, songs that i’m playing on repeat

The muses have inspired artist for centuries just like how women inspire us today.

concept playlists

feel better;  it’s been a long week, not moving from your permanently dark bedroom, your phone forgotten under the bed with a hundred missed messages, but you’re finally opening your eyes and seeing a sliver of early morning sunlight filter in behind the curtains that a mysterious breeze blew open.

daisy chains;  it’s late spring or early summer and you’re dozing with your best friends in the grass, the slow and peaceful brush of the warm breeze keeping you in that state of just waking from a pleasant dream.

songs to run away to;  you’re packing an overnight bag and taking the first bus out of the city. you’re not exactly running away, but you don’t plan on coming back. all you know is that your only goal is to keep on running.

classical jams;  it’s your fancy neighbour’s annual ball held in their gothic castle and you’re getting turnt to tchaikovsky while very deliberately disappointing your parents who wanted you to use the occasion to find an upstanding suitor.

dark academia but it slaps;  vague fuck the school system vibes, doing stupid shit with your close friends, caffeinated all-nighters, a chaotic gleam in your eye as you throw paper planes made from your essays out of the highest window in campus, not knowing if your friend really did commit murder. in this household we don’t take ourselves too seriously.

I want to be alone but I don’t want to be lonely

I want to be special and I want to be insignificant

I want to be brave and I want to be cowardly

I want to work and I want to do nothing

I want to be loud and I want to be quiet

I want to be noticed and I want to be invisible

I want to live and I want to sleep

I am a contradiction and that is ok