the diagnosis
as of 4/2/14, this tumblog will be dedicated to a quest to determine what ailment is slowly eating my body.

as of 7/16/14, we're getting close

Smiley face
  • "The earth laughs in flowers."

    - Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

    (Source: castiellonunkanatlari, via theangelshavetheglowcloud)

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  • itscolossal:

    The Colossal print shop opens in about a week featuring work by Rafael Araujo

    (via laboratoryequipment)

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  • fuckyeahtattoos:



    actually drooling

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  • likeafieldmouse:

    Lee Ufan - From Line (1980)

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  • likeafieldmouse:

    Dirk Skreber - Katee II (2010)

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  • why the hell am i researching grief counseling for my own grief of my own death. 

    i’m 23

    and this is bullshit.


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  • Long exposure, 3 traffic lights in the fog.

    (Source: iraffiruse, via hugsmaketheworldgoround)

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  • The “Last” Sexual Encounter

    Friday night, I went to a meeting.

    I felt like shit, and my friends were going to something I was physically incapable of doing. I didn’t want to go anyway, but it was frustrating all the same.

    I get food and a phone call. A friend is headed to a different meeting.

    So I go.

    She and I don’t get to speak until after the meeting, and we didn’t so much speak as held each other as I wept. 

    We decide to get coffee.

    She’s going through some difficult emotional stuff I have personal experience with, so I give her some writing she can do to get clarity around it. She begins to work on it. 

    I notice a facebook comment on my post thanking people for their support:

    And this comment:

    I begin crying. 

    She holds my hand.

    I weep for a few seconds, pause, take some deep breaths, and calm down.

    She tells me I have “such grace” about this.

    I begin weeping again.

    It’s chilly out, and we go to my apartment.

    I realize as we’re sitting on the couch what could happen. Strong emotions and high tensions, she signals for a kiss.

    I weird out.

    We listen to my grief music and she holds me as I weep.

    She lays in my bed.

    I join her.

    We are occupied for 3 hours.

    We finish up, she dresses in my clothes, and we head outside for a cigarette.

    I force the “going forward” conversation, and we talk about it.

    I have a chest pain. I grimace and touch my chest.

    She says

    "I forgot you were sick"

    "… So did I"

    And I wept.

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  • there will come a time, you’ll see
    with no more tears
    and love will not break your heart
    but dismiss your fears
    get over your hill and see
    what you find there
    with grace in your heart
    and flowers in your hair

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