sometimes the bus announcer lady gets scrambled. and that’s when you take a ride through…Wrong London

the point of life is to grow more leaves

tomorrow we eat breakfast in hell

they’ve chosen a new grimy pope (like the regular pope but grimy)

time wearing a false moustache so everyone thinks they’re space

in dreams, I walk with you and you have so, so many legs

fox cub hearts

making art or artly aching

delivery guy accidentally brought me 30 duck eggs and 6 quail eggs i didn’t ask for. if only i were living the life he thinks i live

sore hands, warm crafts

sometimes you just feel like the bit of road that shines silver at the edge of the puddle

I know you say the key is gone. But late at night when you're sleeping I see glowing through your keyhole. There's light inside you somewhere. I won't stop til I've let it out

asking a rock what it’s been up to, how it’s been, smiling at its answer

joke’s on you. one of my greatest achievements is my ability to fall

trying out a new possibility: i’m not mentally ill; the problem is far simpler: i am taboo

pockets were invented so we could carry our gods around with us

naming my child ernest posting

getting my emotional ass kicked by a book i’ve read a dozen times before

grace gathers in the corners of our eyes, under our nails, in our bellybuttons, between our toes, and it is a gift

working heart, heartly working

henry bemis is my hero

i like feeling human. it’s pretty good. i should do it more often

actually the leviathan rising from the depths of the ocean to bring chaos and devastation is just a metaphor for how hard it is to wake up in the morning

it’s wild to make art and be excited about the art i make and think that it is cool and wake up wanting to make more of it and to know that even a few years ago i didn’t have that in my life and i worked really hard to get it. not sorry for earnest posting because earnest posting is cool

i’ve been reading all your posts out loud and none of them have made the neighbour’s baby stop crying. the baby has poor taste if you ask me

capitalism was often lauded by newspaper sages for producing the 'holy triad' of consumer products - the typewriter, the twelve-gauge shotgun, and the hot movie - which were commonly enjoyed together in parish amphitheatres on the sabbath

good morning, everybody look up at a tree today

going lizard mode

squid propaganda

this is pretty sexy, i can see why a bee would want to fuck it

when people say “it’s raining” or “it’s cold” the “it” they mean is me. and it’s sweaty

squid propaganda

Using a powerful surge of energy to give a stranger a warm smile

hey that’s my time and space. i need that for doing stuff in

the sun is shining and i found an unexpected mango biche in the freezer so yeah i’d say i know precisely what the greeks meant by εὐδαιμονία

i’m 73% water. and it wants revenge

i am having such a shit day. but imagine…if i wasn’t

the old ance is dead. long live the nuance

you open the book. it’s been hollowed out. i’m inside

i’m in the strange cold desert beyond the stars. drawing eldritch patterns in the sand. it’s nice here. a little boring. but nice

a word turns into another word, or maybe into a whale

it’s nice in here

i would be fine if i went in The Zone. there would be a mutual respect between The Zone and i

they took an already perfect being, The Bus, and they made it even better. bless them

getting the best birthday present i could hope for: a 20 minute meeting about how a dumb attempt to use dumb AI has resulted in a dumb failure

big day for dipshits (me) turning 40

thinking how best to upset fancy coffee drinkers. might invent the double pour over, where you pour the coffee back through the same filter again. i think that’d do it

found the odradek

i may have overestimated my own desire to make tiny repetitive holes in things

“championship”, melissa broder