the swarm live

Anniversary Gift

“I don’t know, a one year anniversary is like a big deal… right?” Dean’s voice broke off as his eyes swept over the layout of the mall. He didn’t like being in malls, didn’t like all these people with bags and smiles and a happiness he didn’t ever get to have. He had work, and his car, and his brother, and his beer, and his house. That’s what his life was. Not this consumer lifestyle that seemed to swarm so many peoples’ lives.

Charlie, giving him a side-eye bitch face, was actually excited to help her best friend pick something out. She loved shopping, though she surrounded herself with people who hated it. Most of the time she was in the mall alone. “It’s a huge deal, dumby. Huge! I bet he got you something awesome. Cas is such a thoughtful person.”

At that Dean blushed. “He really is, isn’t he? Probably has the whole day planned with romantic shit. God, how did I ever get someone like him?”

“I guess you’re handsome.” Charlie chuckled as she grabbed Dean’s hand and started to lead them through the array of stores. “And his shitty little car definitely helped you. I mean he was in your garage on a weekly basis.”

Keep reading

lots of sketches of neko swarms. my astrosphere characters live in an ambiguous time period, and since i’m not so great at designing clothes, i just decided to root each character’s individual style in a certain decade. i won’t say what decade belongs to who.

I have this theory about wearing all black to art museums,
You see, black absorbs all, light and color,
It renders me as a part of the background -
Not to distract from the surrounding art and beauty,
Leaving me as a reflection of nothing
So that artists may make their impressions on me.
Dressing in black, I hope, will help me to absorb all:
Art, culture,
but most importantly,
the memories.

I step out of the vehicle and onto the steps,
Waiting for you to arrive.
I see you show up, swarmed in color.>
I live in contrast.

We walk about the halls and walls,
Admiring the art that adorns them.
It’s funny,
How you can seem so much more like the shadow the darkness of my clothes resembles
As you tiptoe,
and whisper,
and sneakily wander about my figure,
and become a figurative reminder for the darkness within myself.

I sometimes forget the intention of dressing
In a color so susceptible to the artistic minds surrounding me
It appears art is not the only thing this darkness can be influenced by.

I wear it to remember,
To immerse myself completely into new experiences
Now look how much time I’ve spent trying to forget
Your breath on the back of my neck
As you whispered rhymes into my ears -
How much time I’ve spent crafting better responses
Than a resonant gulp
And a thought caught in my throat.

I don’t remember the art of the culture,
But simply a feeling,
A sensation associated with the entire experience.
I don’t remember your words precisely,
But the sound of your voice is forever etched into the forefront of my memory.
I remember how you laughed at me
When you asked me why I dressed the way I had,
I told you:
I have this theory about wearing all black to art museums,
But that was ridiculous, you said,
And you were right,
Because every memory I have left from that day
Has been ridiculed and replayed
And honestly, most days, I wish I didn’t still remember.

I used to have this theory about wearing all black to art museums,
But since, I have decided to leave my impressions on others
And stop leaving the susceptibility of my being up to chance
Of anyone who may pass me by.

It’s time to live in color.

—  “A Theory In Art,” by Grazia Curcuru, performed at the BLFAC Session II Talent Show 2016
I have this theory about wearing all black to art museums.
You see, black absorbs all - light and color.
It renders me as part of the background,
not to take from the surrounding art and beauty,
leaving me as a reflection of nothing
so artists may make their impressions on me.
Dressing in black, I hope, will help me absorb all -
art, culture,
but more importantly,
the memories.

I step out of the vehicle and onto the steps
Waiting for you to arrive
I see you show up, swarmed in color
I live in contrast

We walk about the halls and walls,
Admiring the art that adorns them
It’s funny how you can feel so much more like the shadow the darkness of my clothes resembles,
As you tiptoe and whisper and sneakily wander about my figure
And become a figurative reminder of the darkness within myself.

I sometimes forget the intention of dressing in a color so susceptible to the artistic minds surrounding me
It appears art is not the only thing this darkness can be influenced by.
 
I wear it to remember, to indulge myself completely into new experiences,
Now look how much time I’ve spent trying to forget your breath on the back of my neck
As you whispered rhymes into my ears,
How much time I’ve spent crafting better responses than a resonant gulp
And a thought caught in my throat.

I don’t remember the art or the culture
But simply a feeling, sensation associated with the experience
I don’t remember your words precisely
But the sound of your voice is forever etched in the forefront of my mind
I remember how you laughed at me when I answered why I dressed the way I had
I told you “I have this theory about wearing all black in art museums”
But that was ridiculous, you said
And you were right

Because every memory I have left from that day
Has been ridiculed and replayed and
I wish I didn’t still remember.

I used to have this theory about wearing all black to art museums
But recently, I’ve decided to leave my impressions on others
And stop leaving the susceptibility of my being up to chance of anyone who may pass me by.
It’s time to live in color.
—  “A Theory in Art,” by Grazia Curcuru
3

i am completely and utterly shocked at the fact that the fans in vietnam has no respect for xiumin??? they trapped him in a corridor bc it was too crowded for him to even get past?? even with 4 men as security it was like fighting a war trying to get him out. people who endanger idols lives by swarming them are NOT fans.

Yoga

Yoga has really changed my life. Before I did yoga I would go through the day without any energy and was in a generally negative mindset, especially when the swarm of hornets that live in the nest outside of my window would fly into my room and sting me over and over again until I’d flail around enough to shoo them away, but then they’d hide in my electronics where they’d download Sting albums and email my close friends “sting sting sting sting” which I’d have to justify as best as I could to my friends without admitting my shameful hornet problem. This happened every single day, but now yoga has changed all of that. My favorite yoga position is either Downward Dog or Buy A Canister Of Gasoline And Dump It On The Hornet Nest Outside Your Window And Then Light The Nest On Fire And Cackle, but I’m sure the other positions are just as good. I just don’t know. I’ve only done one day of yoga.

Omens
by Louise Glück

after Alexander Pushkin

I rode to meet you: dreams
like living beings swarmed around me
and the moon on my right side
followed me, burning.

I rode back: everything changed.
My soul in love was sad
and the moon on my left side
trailed me without hope.

To such endless impressions
we poets give ourselves absolutely,
making, in silence, omen of mere event,
until the world reflects the deepest needs of the soul.