I NEED PRIVACY, NOT BECAUSE MY ACTIONS ARE QUESTIONABLE, BUT BECAUSE YOUR JUDGMENT AND INTENTIONS ARE.

You show a cat something and they're like sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff ooooh I understand now. Don't care

The worst thing in the entire world is when you’re sweeping a big pile of dirt into a dustpan and it leaves that little coke line of grit behind. No matter how you position your pan or your broom and no matter how many times you sweep over it your outcome cannot change. As immovable as fate. I hate it so

i call my parents and say ‘yeah i can’t do family stuff tonight, i got too much stuff to do for school’ and i e-mail my professor and say ‘i can’t do my assignments tonight, work got crazy’ and i text my boss and say ‘sorry i can’t work late tonight, i gotta some family stuff’ and through this triangulation of deceitful excuses i at last will be free

the aquarium said you are NOTHING compared to an eel

i’m thinking tonight about masterpieces. michelangelo looked at the sixtine chapel and saw; nothing to preserve. virgil wanted his aenid burned and forgotten; only to be saved at the behest of an emperor who thought it flattery. kafka instructed his friend to burn everything he’d ever written - too personal was it, too unfinished.

they were ignored.

instead, their work was taken and held and published and thrown to be gawked at. instead, an emperor, a pope, a friend, took from within the cavities of them their choices; their art.

tumblr rolls out post+. twitter rolls out tip jars. youtube takes half of what creators earn. on social media, there is a ko-fi or a patreon and a polished face in every bio. i show my poems to my mother and she asks if I will publish them before she says anything else. emily dickinson instructed her sister to burn her poetry.

her sister did not listen.

we are a community, says tumblr, we should give back to creators. my last poem had 50 notes. six of those were reblogs that weren’t mine. i lie in bed at 2am and stare at my bright phone screen and the way netflix’s library grows thinner and thinner. the first ad on tumblr that i can reblog is for amazon. amazon takes more than half of what authors earn.

kafka’s friend took barely finished work and hammered it into structure. he is the only reason we know of him.

my father wrote a book and a play when I was barely big enough to reach his knees. when i try to talk to him about writing, he shrugs.

no one wanted to publish it, he says. so i don’t write anymore.

i am filled with poems I have never published, books I haven’t written. There are little snippets of them scattered throughout my life. I link to my ko-fi on my tumblr.

-

asked capitalism of the artist: what is art, if not for consumption? who does art benefit, if it is not consumed? why create at all if you do not market it? who are you, frothing at the mouth about someone publishing someone else’s poems? who are you to hate your magnum opus? what is art, if not in relation to its reception? if no one sees it, how is it art?

said the artist, baring their teeth: it’s mine.

why is the most relatable teenager in this book the alien

This is literally how I make conversation

oh snap

REBLOG.

FOREVER.

This is an actual Therapist Recommended method for dealing with a runaway “inner critic” and this comic is perfect ❤️

Very hard to put into practice….but definitely worth the effort.

This passed my timeline earlier today on a different platform, but I’m only watching it now and am mildly amused and disturbed by the realization there was THIS MUCH FOOTAGE OF PAUL RUDD DANCING on separate occasions that it could be edited into a video this long.

august is not summer august is when they turn the light back on in the cinema and you get knocked out of your trance and back to reality again

(via Saturday Morning Cartoons: Baopu #15) by Yao Xiao

words to remember

I know this will bother unhealed adults, but the real world, more often than not, does give you second chances and do overs. Very rarely are things set in stone. And people, especially young people, deserve to know that. Because lording the idea that they can never mess up, even once, does a lot more damage than good.