Hi brain, you obstinate fucker. I drank the clear splashy stuff. I ate the green things. I went under that bright fucker up there. I did the thing with the moving and sweating and whatnot. Now make the happy chemical, you lump of fuck.
Vultures are holy creatures.
Tending the dead.
Bowing low.
Bared head.
Whispers to cold flesh,
“Your old name is not your king.
I rename you ‘Everything.’”
there is not a single day i don't think about this quote in relation to tragedies
Aeschylus, The Oresteia
Richard Siken, Planet of Love
The Lumineers, Cleopatra
darkcomedies-deactivated2022042
Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
[Midweek Murder - I posted all my Wednesday corvids yesterday ‘cause I dont’ know or care what day it is.]
“Here we are. Where it all began. You remember your mother’s favorite passage?”
Anonymous asked:
Sometimes I check your blog to get an insight, in case there’s did something you’re not telling me.
I don’t know who this is (I have my suspicions, but you wouldn’t be anonymous if not to rouse my suspicions) but if you’re one of the many people I haven’t replied to in a very long time, please know that you haven’t done anything wrong and it’s me who’s an uncommunicative ghost.
I am thirty years old and I still haven’t quite figured out how to a) work 60 hours a week b) take care of myself properly and c) be in contact with people. I can do two out of three, but never all of it consistently. In the Venn diagram of my life, something has to give.
So work is fine and I am doing well, but you don’t want to be friends with a ghost, do you? You want something flesh and blood and verbal. For which I apologise