Icon by @ThatSpookyAgent. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. The X-Files. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
This is what hozier meant when he says he falls a little bit in love everyday with someone new
I once watched a girl in the produce aisle pick up a bushel of bananas that were precariously perched on the edge and move them farther back and under her breath she said “there you go sweeties - that will be more comfortable” before shuffling off and… I think about her often.
« Silent lovers » is such a sweet way to put it.
I was driving on the highway and passed a dude absolutely JAMMING alone in his car, doing those little half dance moves you do when you’re stuck sitting down in a small space, bellowing unheard lyrics at the top of his lungs, and my instant reaction was to think “I love you.” And then to pray he had a good day, or whatever, because those fleeting moments of connection are so incredible.
neil hilborn // miranda july // @orpheuslament // aaron o’hanlon // georges bataille // natalie wee “least of all” // @fridayiminlovemp3 // maria petrovykh “love me. i am pitch black” // “the seven husbands of evelyn hugo” // sylvia plath “johnny panic & the bible of dreams” // mary oliver “wild geese” // sue zhao // virginia woolf from a letter to katherine mansfield // trista mateer
“I have a woman.”
a poem about Chippewa gender nonconforming lesbianism by Bangishimog Ikwe
[image description: 3 images with white squares with black text placed in the middle of them. the first image’s background is clouds in the sky. On the white square the text reads “I don’t have a man. / I have a woman. / I have a woman / anything goes / he’s strong and protective / he isn’t afraid / to love me correctly / to adapt to my mannerisms”. the second image is of wrinkled black and red burning lava. the text reads “I have a woman / who I call my partner / who I call my boyfriend / who I call my girlfriend / who I call my lover / who I call inday / who I call niinnimoshenh”. The last background image is of a bedroom with a yellow bedspread and a large window & art on the walls. the text reads “I have a woman / who survived the worst calamities / who learned the hard way / who remained soft / who remained vulnerable / I have a woman / and I’ll be damned / if I said I didnt love him”. ]
I have been thinking of the ways we tell people things. My father’s hands shake, but he holds the phone up so I can watch the video from six feet away. My mother emails me the recipe of her beef stroganoff at 6 in the morning with the comment - woke up and didn’t want to forget to do this! On the highway, we sing so loudly my voice grows hoarse; on the beach I sneak nice rocks into people’s hands so they have something to hold; on the floor we all sit quietly in the same agreeable silence. We are all saying the same thing.
My friends say “Oh you know, keeping busy.” This means they are having a hard time but making themselves survive it. I ask them to help me walk me dog; this is me telling them it’s okay sometimes to just be present and talk about young adult fiction. When I cancel again because I can’t get out of bed, she tells me she’s on her way with cookies.
I point out the sunset. She shares her fork before I ask for it. He calls me at 1 AM just because I’m on the road alone, we talk about stupid shit. She waits for me to get indoors safely before driving away. He says - nah, forget it, I’m happy to do it for free.
People are saying it, you know? They say it often and loudly. Sometimes, you know - you just have to be listening.
god i love doomed romances because it’s like. “what is grief if not love persevering” but the grief and love are happening at the same time. how do you grieve something that’s still alive? how do you love something that has always been dead? and the answer is just. intensely.
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