Latest Posts by libraryidealist - Page 7

James Baldwin talking about love

do it drunk. do it high

“you’re my best friend, now i’ve got no one to tell i’ve lost my best friend.”

….

on friends, who maybe want to be a little more than that

@fuckitloveu @mothicalspoken

not people thinking they can escape heartache. avoiding it at all cost is itself a form of it

Being in love fucks you up so crazy. What do you mean I am thinking of the texture of the callouses along the broad ridge where their palm meets their fingers. Am I perhaps stupid.

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine”

— Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, [Act II Scene I Line 249]

US Elevation.

by @cstats1

the impossible return

> THE JESTER

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

E. Hughes, from "My Mother at Twenty-One"

About wocwog HJ. I love him. He's so raw, and there's so much pain and rage.

you can pry starting sentences with 'and' or 'but' out of my cold, dead hands

I love kids they’re all like.. “when i grow up i’m gonna be an astronaut and a chef and a doctor and an olympic swimmer” like that self confidence! That drive! That optimism! Where does it go

You know what screw it this counts as poetry

"but there is something that happens when you are told you are too much. you begin to ask everyone, "how small would you like me?""

I had a vision

I had a vision

dear followers, today i offer you pingu with simone de beauvoir quote

unknown, from pinterest // Maurice (1987), dir. James Ivory // "Silent Noon" by Dante Gabriel Rossetti via poetryfoundation.org // Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), dir. James Weir // Renoir (2012), dir. Gilles Bourdos

— Susan Sontag, from “Death Kit,” (1967) (via lunamonchtuna)

Btw, non UK users here, would be genuinely super helpful if you could boost posts relating to the far right violence happening and also counter protests. A lot of UK users don’t really follow each other, and also it just helps to increase the chance of people who could go to counter protests seeing posts about what’s happening when. I know posts about our politics; and non USAmerican politics really; don’t get a lot of traction on here, but like despite the UScentrism of the English speaking user base it’s really helpful and beneficial to share these things. The situation is likely downright horrifying to those being targeted right now and it really should be a priority for us to go out and counter this to the best of our abilities

WE SHALL BE MONSTERS

Saptajit Banerjee What does it mean to be human? // 스위트홈 Sweet Home (2020-2024) dir. Jang Young-woo; Lee Eung-bok; Park So-hyun // Victoria Schwab Vicious // Melissa Broder Problem Area from "Last Sext" // Clarice Lispector The Hour of the Star // 스위트홈 Sweet Home (2020-2024) dir. Jang Young-woo; Lee Eung-bok; Park So-hyun // Ocean Vuong On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous // George Seferis Collected Poems 1924-1955 // 스위트 홈 Sweet Home (2017-2020) cr. Kim Carnby & Hwang Young-chan // Fyodor Dostoyevsky The Brothers Karamazov // Frank Bidart Half-light: Collected Poems 1965-2016 // Florence + the Machine Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) // 스위트홈 Sweet Home (2020-2024) dir. Jang Young-woo; Lee Eung-bok; Park So-hyun // John Flaxman Scylla

Jennifer Saunders, from “When the Guest Speaker Told Us“

Are fedoras really that bad?

YES YES THEY ARE

"Well, let us see. What do I like?

I like my own children and all nice, fat, clean babies anywhere. I like all kinds of books if they're well written whether they are religious or philosophical or sentimental or cynical or humorous or exaggerated or indecent. I like writing books myself. I like cats and horses and some dogs. I like curling breakers, woods and mountains and stars and trees and flowers. I like nicely furnished houses. I like good Victrola records and the music of the violin. I like pretty china and glass and old heirloom things. I like a cosy bed and a tight hot water bottle. I like to be kissed by the right kind of a man. I like jewels and pretty clothes. I like doing fancy work and I like cooking and I like eating the nice things other people cook. I like motoring and driving and walking. I like a systematic life with occasional dashings over the traces. I like open fires and moonlit nights. I like nice chatty letters. I like compliments. I like to see a person I dislike snubbed. I like my own looks when my hair is dressed a certain way. I like a snack at bed time. I like going out to dinner. I like helping other people and I like to be very independent of help myself. I like sunsets and pictures and sea bathing. I like keeping a journal. I like reading old letters. I like housecleaning-I do! I like entertaining the race of Joseph. I like day-dreaming. I like going to concerts, good movies and plays. I like-or used to like before I wedded a minister-dancing and playing whist. I like reading the Bible-most of it. (I like the folk-lore of Genesis and the drama of the Exodus and the gorgeous furnishings of the tabernacle and the doings of the kings and the good maledictions of the Psalms and the warm imagery of the Song of Solomon and the cynicism of Ecclesiastes and the worldly wisdom of the Proverbs and the idyll of Ruth and the blazing fire of the prophets and the wonders of Jesus' teaching and the poetry of Revelations.) I like listening to good sermons. I like gardening. I like good spruce gum. I like my husband. I like people to like me. I like a good joke. I like rainy days. I like old homesteads. I like people who agree with me. I like chocolate caramels and Brazil nuts. I like-or liked in pre-prohibition days-Miss Oxtoby's dandelion wine. I like perfumes. I like a little gossip with carefully selected people. I like shopping at Eaton's.

There now, Ruskin, tell me what I am..."

-LM Montgomery, in her journal