harvest moon in another universe

Sweet dreams

mine

kind of like a zombie beachy feel, but in winter

Now I am become

"... they don't listen properly to cries of pain when they come. They can't, of course. They're a peerage of tin ears. With such faulty equipment, with those ears, how can anyone possibly trace the pain, by sound and quality alone, back to its source?"
From Seymour: An Introduction by J.D. Salinger

I only hope to express or create impressions of what resounds inwardly, to become a true seer, to let out a howl of pain that would float on in the universe for at least a moment.
In the meantime, though, I can only create a bunch of shit.

"But where does by far the bulk, the whole ambulance load, of pain really come from? Where must it come from? Isn't the true poet or painter a seer? Isn't he, actually, the only seer we have on earth?"

Bowie love

living with boys

I've come to terms with being a girl as most girls have, will, must. It has made me love myself, hate myself, love myself again, and hate everyone around me. It's complex and violent and messy as hell and really beautiful and brilliant when it's raw.

Saez's controversial album's controversial cover

The existence of RookieMag is amazing for so many different reasons; one article in particular made me revisit memories of living in France a couple of years ago, and my first encounters with the more severe and aggressive forms of male courtship and attention. These anxieties are real, man.

Ohhh I want you more than anyone ever wanted anyone before

qu'est-ce qui me perturbe
je deviens de plus en plus separee, exclue de moi-meme - ces derniers temps, il y en a des parties qui sont particulierement negilgees - le francais me manque, mon anciennne vie me manque - j'aime pas me sentir vulnerable a tous ces changements, toutes ces forces, tous ces mouvements et ces vents et ces vagues et ce putain de connard me hante.

baise moi