Gothphrodite - - Gothphrodite -

um no offense but whom'st’ve going to loveth me

When we killed what we were to become what we are, what did we do with the bodies? We did what most people do; buried them under the floorboards and got used to the smell. I’ve lived my life like a serial killer; finish with one part, strangle it and move on to the next. Life in neat little boxes is life in neat little coffins, the dead bodies of the past laid out side by side. I am discovering, now, in the late afternoon of the day, that the dead still speak.

Jeanette Winterson, from “Gut Symmetries,” published c. 1998 (via violentwavesofemotion)

I really enjoy just existing in hotels. The long identical hallways. The soulless abstract art. The weird noises the air-conditioner makes. Strange city lights in the window. Six stories off the ground. Strangers chatting in the hall. Nothing in the dresser. No past, but an infinite present. 

“I could not stop wasting time. It was crazy. I wanted to do something with my life, but instead I went to sleep, or sung in the shower, or sat and stared at the wall. I couldn’t even tell you about anything that I saw. I didn’t talk to anybody. The cicadas kept dying outside, and as I dreamed, my mouth grew thick and venomous with silence.”

— Yiwei Chai, The Jacaranda Years (via crowsummer)

“Medusa lost her beauty—or rather, it was taken from her. Beauty is always something you can lose. Women’s beauty is seen as something separate from us, something we owe but never own: We are its stewards, not its beneficiaries. We tend it like a garden where we do not live. Oh, but ugliness—ugliness is always yours. Almost everyone has some innate kernel of grotesquerie; even fashion models (I’ve heard) tend to look a bit strange and froggish in person, having been gifted with naturally level faces that pool light luminously instead of breaking it into shards. And everyone has the ability to mine their ugliness, to emphasize and magnify it, to distort even those parts of themselves that fall within acceptable bounds. Where beauty is narrow and constrained, ugliness is an entire galaxy, a myriad of sparkling paths that lurch crazily away from the ideal. There are so few ways to look perfect, but there are thousands of ways to look monstrous, surprising, upsetting, outlandish, or odd. Thousands of stories to tell in dozens of languages: the languages of strong features or weak chins, the languages of garish makeup and weird haircuts and startling clothes, fat and bony and hairy languages, the languages of any kind of beauty that’s not white. Nose languages, eyebrow languages, piercing and tattoo languages, languages of blemish and birthmark and scar. When you give up trying to declare yourself acceptable, there are so many new things to say.”

— What If We Cultivated Our Ugliness?, Jess Zimmerman (via xshayarsha)

On saturday we went to the library and I got out a charming wee book for my little one called "1 is one". Now I am obsessing over the author, Tasha Tudor. Writer, illustrator, gardener and crafter, basically my ultimate goals 💛💛💛

it lit.

This home in Woodstock, New York, is like an enchanted witch’s house.

The entrance alone, is amazing.

In the large main room, there’s a huge stone fireplace, a table, and a swing.

There’s also a work area in the corner.

A family room with a children’s play area.

I’m guessing this is either a bedroom or a sitting room.

Hallway leading to the various levels.

Look at the kitchen.

Master bedroom with some fashionable wigs and beautiful vintage dressing table.

Cool bath- look at all the vintage fixtures.

Here’s a man cave workshop. 

And, there’s a vintage car in the garage.

What a dreamy house.

https://www.locationdepartment.net/locations/3051

Practice “social distancing” by being exiled from the king’s court for your unseemly, debauched, and scandalous behaviour.