Latest Posts by eris-bacchanal - Page 2

LMAO.😂🤣😅 You gotta love it, truly unremarkable inspirationals that don't tax the imagination too dearlyl!!

It's adorable. An utterly banal and concrete observation gathering all its pluck and moxy and climbing way up into the heady heights where proverbs, koans, and poetic metaphors reside, taking its shot at greatness--it takes some real sand to pose as sublime unfolding wisdom. ❎❎❎ Unlocked: Achievement Mundane.

This is the problem with smoking pot. 🚭 It badly impairs the ability to accurately evaluate or assign meaning.

🤪💣🙈🙉🙊💣😵

I'm thinking about how I use tumblr. I look at weird or wonderful words and art, on the occasions that I take a break from my more regular habit of looking at sexy pics of women.

I'd like to start blending or mashing up the artsy or wordy elements with incongruent unrelated libidinous photos of women being sexy.

It would be something to do. Anything, as long as I start to occupy and ground myself, because I'll finish withering and die otherwise.

The bleak obscenity of how isolated and horrible my life was, bore down relentlessly on me me even before the pandemic rose up to join with other forces of chaos and shut our angry polarized culture down when we all sorely needed to relearn to connect.

The pandemic whooshed in like a cyclone, and the last shreds of my life were torn away in an instant, with me practically sucking for air in the void. Now, isolation and idleness is an absolute state. Virtually all my interactions in recent years were with community resources, social type services, hospitals, and shelter workers.

They've all stayed closed or been modified and telewhatevered. So, my health is eroded by physical atrophy and my mind is not grounded at all because I so seldom speak to anyone. I've started to behave erratically on the internet, leaving ten page comments in reply to strangers, adopting this tumblr page of mine, or spewing vitriolic invective at people online, like a crazy man.

So there you have it, if anyone ends up on this page.

Ironically, social media is showing me that there are millions of lonely folk needing validation, who curate their digital lives with passion. So much yearning to be seen and heard.

Unfortunately, it seems everyone is selling, no one buying: a global chorus of need howls noon and night, wanting any attention at all.

We need a Namaste Army to comb this world for the humans behind the screens.

Bodach out.

These days the revolution is just out for blood, they ain't making a single friend.

It will continue down this trajectory inexorably for the remaining years.

The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (2004) dir. Wes Anderson

To be fair, I don't make it easy.

“In the deep fall, the body awakes,”

— Robert Bly, from “A Home in Dark Grass,” The Light Around the Body (HarperPerennial, 1991)

Come ye reynards and vixens in the night. There's hares about.

Thankfully, I retired relatively young. Not that retirement is a gig worth being too grateful about either.

just realized I never posted this

this is the best picture of me that exists

All the beautiful women with their zaftig curvy bodies and strong sexy feet.

I'm at the very functional end of the autism spectrum and I find randomness or change difficult and agitating. Sometimes, I do just have to say no.

What's tiring in the extreme is having to explain over and over to people who question every single time. It invalidates and devalues me. I find with cognitive, neurological, psychological and emotional disorders and conditions, people say they understand, that they are accepting and oppose stigma, but then do this "what's going on" confused, impatient, or disbelieving routine any time you show signs of a symptom or trait.

Worse, when you explain, they chime in again with their flaccid facile two cents on both the condition and my diagnosis. I've reached the point, I usually just want to reply with violence. Some ways I can flex, other ways not so much. And more stress = more rigid, less resilient. That's not complicated to remember.

As if I have the option not to.

Happy 95th birthday to Angela Lansbury, who was born Oct. 16, 1925, in London. An acting legend on stage, TV, and film, here’s some photos from her extraordinary life. Photo captions. 1. A glamorous portrait from her time as a contract player for MGM. 2. Lansbury in her first screen role as conniving maid Nancy in Gaslight (1944). Lansbury received her first Academy Award nomination for this performance. 3. Lansbury in one of her fabulous costumes for The Harvey Girls (1946). 4. Lansbury and her good friend Hurd Hatfield at Hollywood landmark Schwab’s Pharmacy. Hatfield and Lansbury appeared together in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945). 5. Lansbury received her third Oscar nomination for playing Laurence Harvey’s fearsome mother in the political thriller The Manchurian Candidate (1962). 6. Lansbury and her fellow TV/stage legend Bea Arthur rehearsing a number for Mame.

It's got cool

THE VAMPIRES - AKA MILTON DELUGG

I adore this oddball, instrumental novelty record.

Magenta?

That is a seriously romantic font, it suggests a phantasmagoria.

From cover of March 31, 1952 General Motors Shareholders’ Quarterly Report. Shown is XP-300, the Buick LeSabre concept car

Back when cans were cans❗

Joseph Schlitz Brewing Co, 1963

It's still a few days til new years. My half ass goal for the next year will be to remain up this side of the soil. Mr. Gaiman, what the bugnuts is the Good Madness?

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

— Neil Gaiman (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)