Accessory Position
How to love your depressed lover.
Last night I thought I kissed the loneliness from out your belly button. I thought I did, but later you sat up, all bones and restless hands, and told me there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo. I never know what to say to these things. “It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.” “Please don’t go away again.” Sometimes you are gone for days at a time and it is all I can do not to call the police, file a missing person’s report, even though you are right there, still sleeping next to me in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders. Except in this case I am the intruder and you are already locked up so tight that no one could possibly jimmy their way in. Last night I thought I gave you a reason not to be so sad when I held your body like a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason, all sensibility, all love. I know better now. I know what to say to the things you admit to me in the dark, all bones and restless hands. “It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.” “Please come back to me again.
(via sad—fawn)
I look  kinda like Tilda Swinton when I cover my eyebrows

I look kinda like Tilda Swinton when I cover my eyebrows

I really want to practice figure drawing/ depicting the human body in an accurate way but I don’t really know many people who are comfortable being naked

pomegranateandivy:

I am going to print this out, laminate it, and keep it with my gloves and spade.

All of this is typical girl-fear. Once you realize that The Exorcist is, essentially, the story of a 12-year-old who starts cussing, masturbating, and disobeying her mother—in other words, going through puberty—it becomes apparent to the feminist-minded viewer why two adult men are called in to slap her around for much of the third act. People are convinced that something spooky is going on with girls; that, once they reach a certain age, they lose their adorable innocence and start tapping into something powerful and forbidden. Little girls are sugar and spice, but women are just plain scary. And the moment a girl becomes a woman is the moment you fear her most. Which explains why the culture keeps telling this story.

Rookie, The Season of the Witch

For readings on the correlation in horror between puberty and the monstrous, see:

I will add Carol Clover’s Men, Women, and Chain Saws here, although she’s concerned more with identification, monstrous-feminine as men’s horror, and the maternal aspects of possession tales (including a section on possession as oral penetration). Although both Creed and Clover are important feminist horror theorists who work in Psychoanalytical lenses, Barbara Creed talks more about transformation than Carol Clover does. And transformation is key to horror movies about how women are terrifying.

For variations on a theme, watch Ginger Snaps, Carrie, and Teeth together.

(Bonus: here is Kristeva’s Powers of Horror: an Essay on Abjection for free online)

I’m 90000% sure I wrote the text below this but it doesn’t link to (probably ff) anywhere. it’s important to keep sources in posts so that you don’t disorient authors about their own pasts,

(via rgr-pop)

trash-bleh:

someone teach me this bass thing because all I know how to do is fumble through smoke on the water

Talk to tate. Tate is an excellent teacher.

I was drinking wine on my porch, and I lifted up my empty cup to scoop up the moon, and as soon as I lowered my glass it passed behind some clouds