I’m Actually So Hot For Tom Blyth

The great Dorothy Parker born on this day in 1893:

"If you have young friends who aspire to be writers, the second greatest favor you can do to them is present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them while they are still happy."

places with terrible wifi

the garden of eden. my ancestors' grave. a watermelon field in central texas where my father once slept. miles of rivers. the waiting room of a hospital in which a doctor, thin-looking in his coat, shared mixed results. a den of worms beneath the frozen grass. jesus's tomb. the stretches of highway on the long drive home after burial. the figurative abyss. the literal heavens. the cheap motel room in which i thought about praying despite my disbelief. what i thought was a voice was simply a recording playing from another rooom. the cluttered attic. most of the past. the very distant future, where man is just another stratum in the ground. the tel of megiddo. the flooded house and the scorched one. my favourite cemetry, where i can touch the white noise distoring memory. what is static if not the sound of the universe's grief? anywhere static reigns.

-poem by J.Estanislao Lopez

ONE of the strange things about living in the

world is that it is only now and then one is

quite sure one is going to live forever and ever

and ever.

one knows it sometimes when one gets

up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out

and stands alone and throws one's head far back

and looks up and up and watches the pale sky

slowly changing and Aushing and marvelous un-

known things happening until the East almost

makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at

the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the

sun -which has been happening every morning

for thousands and thousands and thousands of

years.

one knows it then for a moment or so.

and one knows it sometimes when one stands by

oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious

deep gold stillness slanting through and under

the branches seems to be saying slowly again and

again something one cannot quite hear, however

much one tries.

then sometimes the immense

quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of

stars waiting and watching makes one suter,

ind

sometimes a sound of far-off music makes

and sometimes a look in some one's eyes.

~ the secret garden

clandestine poems

folklore & evemore

lyrics

and ofc taylor swift bc who else

AN ARTIST

the fact that aaron sent taylor all his work and she got back to him with cardigan within hours…or the fact that peace was done in one vocal take…or the fact that cardigan, august and betty are all connected to the point where at 3:13 in betty taylor sings ‘betty, I’m here on your doorstep’ and in cardigan at 3:13 she sings ‘and you’d be standing in my front porch light’…or the fact that she rhymed car again with cardigan…I could literally go on all day

rip dorian gray, you would’ve loved botox

“now i’ve read all of the books beside your bed” is one of the softest lyrics ever it’s a gem

my heart shatters for augustine and betty

The way James says "Summer thing" and Augustine says "Summer love" hurts me in a way I didn't think was possible

fables far fetched

fictitious facts fabricated for foolish

feelings for fairy tale figures felt

foreshadowing face-fall

for figures found: flawed

fall for flaws forlorn folklore

rip sylvia plath, you would’ve loved air fryers