tree sing

Harzreise, 1-7

“Nothing is as constant as change, or as permanent as death. Every beat of our hearts would open a fresh wound and make our lives an eternal hemorrhage, if not for the art of poetry. She grants what nature has denied us: a golden age, which never rusts, a spring that never fades, unclouded happiness and eternal youth”  - Börne.

Black skirts and silken stockings,
Frills arranged with care and art,
Gentle talk and soft embraces –
Oh, if only they had hearts!

Hearts within their breasts for loving,
Love to set their hearts aglow –
I could die from all their moaning
and their fabricated woe.

I will go up to the mountains,
Quiet, simple huts are there,
Where my heart may freely open
In the clear, unfettered air.

I will go up to the mountains,
Where dark fir trees block the sky
Singing birds and rushing fountains,
As the haughty clouds race by.

Oh, farewell, you polished salons,
Ladies, gentleman – adieu!
I will go up to the mountains
And laugh as I look down on you.

     The town of Göttingen, famous for its university and its sausages, belongs to the kings of Hannover, and contains 999 hearths, various churches, a maternity hospital, an observatory, a jail, a library, and a rathskeller, where the beer is excellent. The stream that flows through it is called the Leine, and summers it serves as a bathing-spot; the water is so cold and in some places so wide that Lüder must have taken quite a long run-up before jumping across. The city itself is lovely, and presents its most charming aspect when one is facing in the other direction. It must be very ancient indeed, for I matriculated there five years ago (shortly before I received notice to take my name off the books), and even then it had then the same gray, old-fashioned look, and just as many blunders, beadles, dissertations, tea dances, charwomen, compendia, roast pigeons, Guelphic ordinaries, doctoral coaches, pipe-bowls, privy councilors, judicial councilors, expulsion councilors, professors and other ‘fessors. Some even maintain that the city was founded at the time of the Great Migration, each German tribe having left behind a rough sample of their membership, and from these descended all the Vandals, Friesians, Schwabians, Teutons, Saxens, Thuringens, and so forth, who are found in Gottingen to this day, singly and in hordes, separated by the colors of their caps and their pipe-tassels, tearing along the Weenderstraβe and fighting an eternal battle with each other on the bloody battlefield of Rasemühle, Ritschenkrug, and Bovenden. Their customs and tradition still resemble those of their savage ancestors, for they are ruled partly by their “Duces” – as they call their chiefs – and partly by their ancient lawbook, which is called “Comment” and has earned its place in the legibus barborum. 

     The inhabitants of Göttingen are generally divided into students, professors, philistines, and cattle; the difference between them being by no means strictly defined.  The fourth class is inarguably the most important. To list the students and all the regular and irregular professors would take up far too much space; besides which the names of the former set seem to have slipped my mind, and among the latter a great many have made no name at all. The number of philistines in Göttingen is very great, like grains of sand (or, more accurately, like mud) by the seashore. Indeed, when I saw them of a morning, with their dirty faces and white bills, having planted themselves in front of the collegiate court, I could hardly bring myself to contemplate why God would bring into creation such an innumerable rabble. 

    More detailed information on the city of Göttingen may be very conveniently obtained from the “Topography” of K. F. H. Marx. Although I cherish a most sacred regard for the author, who was my physician and always held me in great esteem, I cannot unconditionally recommend his work, and must chide him for providing insufficient information to dispel the common yet erroneous opinion that the ladies of Göttingen have feet that are not over-large. I have occupied myself year and a day in preparing a serious refutation of this point, and for this purpose have taken up comparative anatomy, made extracts from the rarest works in the library, and not neglected to spend hours in the Weenderstraße, studying the ladies’ feet as they pass by. In the very learned treatise in which the result of these studies is contained, I speak firstly, of the feet in general; secondly, of the feet of the ancients; thirdly, of the feet of elephants; fourthly, of the feet of the women of Göttingen; fifthly, I gather together everything that has ever been said in Ulrich’s Garden which touches on the subject of feet; sixthly, I look at these feet in context, and expand the scope of the inquiry to the calves, knees, and so on, and finally, in the seventh place, if I am only able to find some sufficiently large sheets of paper, I will put up a copper plaque with a facsimile of the foot of a lady of Göttingen.

things people in my theatre class have said (part 2)

“and then emma is going to cross downstage—where’s emma” (everyone simultaneously looks up. emma is on the catwalk) “hey guys you look really short from up here”

(violent twirling of ribbons) “IM A WATERBENDER”

“so im going to write a musical called tree #3 the musical and the whole thing is just the tree standing onstage and singing this note:” (high-pitched screeching) “sounds groundbreaking”

“my favorite musical that we did was probably seussical” “isnt that the one where you face planted on the stage” “shhhh we don’t talk about that”

“wait i get to fake slap aidan” “yeah” “FINALLY”

“can you maybe chill?” “how bout maybe you chill?” “OH MY GOD YOU TOO?”

“there’s literally no music i can play right now. it’s all percussion. what the fuck.”

“one word summary of yourself” “gay”

“wow i can’t believe how good friends elphaba and glinda are” “harold…..” “wait what my name’s michael” “…harold….”

“FUCK YEAH FRUIT ROLLUPS”

“actually, did you know that in 19th century russia—” (from across the stage) “WE WRITE LETTERS WE WRITE LETTERS”

“see we call the small max maxahundred cause hes the youngest. then the medium max is maxathousand. then the big max is maximillian.” “OH MY GOD”

“when you think about it….. everything is illuminati”

Trees (Cover)
twenty one pilots
Trees (Cover)

the first thing i need to say about trees is that I will never be able to make this song justice, but this is my closest shot. 

i hope it can calm you down in times of need and that you enjoy it, simple as it is. tyler wrote it when he was my age, 17, and has saved countless of lives with this single song since then. i can never thank him enough. so this is a tribute.

“…but there’s a particular lyric that stands out for me; it says ‘i can feel your breath, i can feel my death’. I know it’s very.. emo, but what art and songs and music can do is it can let you be whoever you want to be. Whenever you come across that lyric, what I want you to do is just close your eyes and sing that, knowing that you’re not alone in what you’re going through.” —Tyler

(x)

Michael Faudet (Check Venus)

Aries: “I think somewhere, in a parallel world, we made love in a garden of wilted flowers.  Out trembling hands reaching out toward the sky, trying to grasp the last watery rays of a dying sun–two hearts colliding and shattering into a million tiny stars” - We Made Love 

Taurus: “We slowly melted into a lazy summer of gentle sea breezes and singing trees.  Each languid day rolling into the next like the curling waves caressing the silent sands.  Our thirsty kisses sipping softly on wine tainted lips as we fell quietly into each other’s open arms” - Wonderfully Lost

Gemini: “Crashing waves on an empty beach, the rhythm of our hearts, two drowning lovers lost a sea, my lips adrift in yours” - The Kiss

Cancer: “Magic tumbled from her pretty lips and when she spoke the language of the universe–the stars sighed in unison” - Stars 

Leo: “Think of me as an uncharted map.  I want your hands to explore every single city, town and village.” - Untitled 

Virgo: “Do you know what really turns me on?  What I find incredibly sexy?  Kindness.” - Kindness 

Libra: “When it came to love, she enjoyed the thrill of the chase but seldom stopped to check whether happiness was keeping up” - The Chase 

Scorpio: “You say that you are over me, my heart–it skips, it sinks.  I see you now with someone new, I stare, I stare, I blink.  Someday I’ll be over you, I know, I know–I think.” - Wishful Thinking 

Sagittarius: “We made love on stormy summer nights.  Our kisses wet and furious like rain running wild across the naked ground.  Her gentle moans lost in the rumble of thunder” - Stormy Weather 

Capricorn: “I have never felt the touch of falling snow, she said, but like love, I know it exists.  Somewhere.” - Untitled 

Aquarius: “I am alone, love passes by, crying tears, I wonder why– I cannot find what others found” - Melancholia

Pisces: “A memory picked from a flower wilted, its petals faded all color crushed.  How can I forget such fragrant perfume?  The lingering regret of a love long lost” - Regret

Also can we just. Take a moment and feel for him in For Forever. When he’s talking about running to the tree. He sings in such a hopeful tone like if he’s convinced himself it’s happened this way. He’s so lonely and lost he convinced himself this happened and he’s /happy/ and hopeful. Like I’m a crying mess right now Bc this lie he started to tell is also a coping method for him and *Screams*

Minimalist Spell Series: Black Honey Curse

I keep swinging my hand through a swarm of bees,
I can’t understand why they’re stinging me…

Items:

  • Red pen (or any writing utensil that’s red)
  • Paper
  • Honey
  • Ground pepper

Method:

Take your paper and write your target’s name on it. Try to take up as much of the paper as you can. If you’d like, write it multiple times, over and over, to take up more space. As you do this, channel all of your negative energy through the pen and into the paper. Say to yourself, when done, “You keep swinging your hand through a swarm of bees, you can’t understand why they’re stinging you. But I’ll do what I want, I’ll do what I please, I’ll do it again ‘til I get what I need.”

Take the honey and strike through the name with it. Take the pepper and sprinkle it into the honey and over the name. Say, “And this time, I’ll get it right. Yeah, this time I’ll get it right. It’s gonna be this time I get it right. Oh god/goddess [your preference] let it be this time I get it right!” 

Tear up the paper. Rip it to absolute shreds. Burn it, tear it, cut it up, whatever you can to destroy the paper. As you do, say “So I’m cutting this branch off the cherry tree, singing ‘this will be my victory!’”

And finally, dispose of the shreds, outdoor bins or the toilet are the best. Make sure you cleanse your honey jar, pepper container, and your pen afterwards!

A sadness she can’t understand, a loneliness she can’t find the reasons why, that face of an empty chair with ghosts, something that looking for an explanation, that’s what all I saw when she said lately she’s been feeling blue.
I think her sky is grey, her soul obviously paddling, I can see through her brown eyes, it has no choice, nobody wants to get drowned.
She looked so good on that simple look, where she didn’t care about any point of views.
It’s like a secret place she wanted to show me, but she can’t open up, on the other side of the road I know there’s something more than that, a misery she’s trying to share.
I got this puzzled look on my face, she kept laughing at small things, but we both know it’s not fine. Will she ever break out of the bubble? She’s been here before, why she can’t sing about it when it feels so real? All the sounds here are quiet, it says nothing but missing the things I never had.
She told me about it, there was no space for her soul that’s aching, the way she talks about him, her heartbeat is too loud, like dancing through uncertainty. If this is what her definition of perfect affection, I hope there’s still a possibility she knows it’s not.
She’s so happy for the freedom they could always have, she thought it could help her be out of the blue, but she’s only creating another door to make things complicated.
She used to have this stain of green, such a fresh echo from a singing tree, but now she’s different.
—  jcatmoonlight 
Voltron as things I've said/done with my cousins

Lance: *grabbing the strawberries* Your body is a temple.

Hunk: nOT TODAY *grabs cheesecake*
-

Pidge: *standing on pegs of a bicycle for what seems like hours, feet getting sore*

Lance: *biking faster and purposely swerving into bushes and trees*

Pidge: *scream singing* lETS gET dOWN tO bUsiNESs tO dEfEAT tHe HUnS
-

*White Chicks playing*

Lance and Pidge: *uncontrollable laughing and screaming at iconic scenes*
-

Shiro: *scolding Lance about hitting Pidge* What’s wrong with you?? Look how small she is

Pidge: *crying*

Lance: it’s not my fault she’s small
-

Rolo: *talking nonstop*

Hunk: *whispers to other paladins* maybe if we ignore him, he’ll go away
-

Keith: *grabs and eats tub of mint chocolate chip icecream with only a couple spoon scoops left*

Lance: *sees Keith with last scoop* *tries to take the scoop away*

Lance and Keith: *wrestles for the last scoop of icecream*

Lance: *grabs icecream with hand* HAHA! *eats icecream in front of Keith*

Keith: *thinking of ways of how to get away with murder*
-

Keith: *looks around him sneakily*

Keith: coast is clear *takes chocolate malt icecream from the freezer and hands it to Hunk*

Keith: I don’t want the others to see

Hunk: *takes out cones and opens icecream, ready to scoop*

Keith: *sees Lance and Pidge* hIDE THE EVIDENCE *takes tub of icecream and shoves it in the freezer*
-

*Lance and Keith watching The Flash and Supergirl Musical Crossover episode*

Keith: If they just have to finish the musical, then all they have to do is kill everyone and they’ll go home right?

Lance: just keep watching

*gunshots, Barry and Kara gets shot, everyone else is dead on the ground*

Keith: sEE I TOLD YOU WHAT DID I SAY
-

Lance: *legs over Pidge*

Pidge: *gives up to move Lance away*

Shiro: Why is he sitting on you

Pidge: I don’t know