Beautiful Beautiful California
(and one of beautiful beautiful Washington — if you can guess which)
1-5 are Liv’s awesome shots
Last slide is more of me listing beautiful things and being a hopeless romantic:
“I’ve become interested in remarkable things that are often noticed and left unsaid. The backsides and buckles of bodies and boulders when pressure is removed or attributed to something specific, explainable or encourageable and benign” at once.
If you’re interested in what it says and whatever else I have to say, follow me on Substack!!!! Link in bio 😋
I learned to take big big lemons and make lemon cake ! 🫧🍋 🫧 🍰 🫧
I learned that shoulders are good for open mouths,
that I can have a face on my face all day and
for the first time in my life, I truly felt that I had literally warmed to the core, radiating from it.
It sits in my stomach while I smile at the lyrics of the song my friend sits me down to listen to
and it’s so warm here and I feel so much love in so many ways and I’m full which is crazy ‘cause just yesterday all I could feel was skin, my own, and I suppose I was angry at it for taking so long to heal because I feel something crawling in there
And my favorite things to feel are wet when I know I’ll be dry again and warm when I never want to get out of this bed and skin because its always healed for me and you and it’s what I love about everything wet and warm and alive
agápi mou
I’ve got an ache flirting with the scalp behind my ear,
wonder if you’ve ever kissed me there my face and yours, flush
from the wanting to be free enough,
running through a field and falling to the the ground in an act of love and the freedom not to stand
We’re on the ground and rubbing pink petals on the balls of our feet
flush with an ache
that must be understood to satisfy
I ache and groan, you’re face down
on the table, in the sun
Everyone is sitting outside ‘cause it rained yesterday.
Now we’re just fine you, face down
and me, slackly set on the trash bags across the street, left on the corner and rotting in the sun.
We are rotting in the sun and the scalp behind my ear is just fine
Because I’m picturing you kissing me there
and then you’re putting the
cigarette back in your mouth
The man sitting next to us smacking his lips
baby, you’re not as gross as him
But he’s trying to stop my gaze when it passes by and you still haven’t given him a dirty look
Soon you’re smacking your lips and telling me
“my love” in your language, still haven’t learned your “love”
And there’s no use ‘cause
you’re smacking your lips and
I’ll be alone come May,
smacking my lips and taking the cigarette from yours, slamming my fist into you
to try and prove myself and “you are dripping moró mou—
I feel embarrassed
in a pummeled against thick sands
sort of way. I rise with heavy breath why didn’t you pull me out?
You just kept swimming baby—
Call me crazy and leave. I don’t even know what to ask for anymore
but I’d swear it wasn’t this
until you describe my eyes back to me
and I can’t help but roll back into them
Sometimes I Want To Be An Inanimate Object.
• a stained glass window (or just one pane)
• a big mug (the ones in the Flannery’s apartment)
• a little bowl
• a good small spoon.
Hanne wants to be a glass bowl.
Hanne wants to be a tea kettle.
Hanne says when she’s scared
and smiles when she’s happy
• leg warmers
• your cigarette ‘cause then maybe you’d kiss me
• a blade of grass
• a cassette tape (preferably one with love in it)
• Hanne’s green eye & • Hanne’s blue eye
• a freckle on my cheek
• a freckle on your nose
• lips (probably mine)
• my mom’s teal pendant that I’ve been wearing a lot (practically every day) recently
• The dress that Hanne let me borrow
• my notebook
• a cherry, the stem in a knot in your mouth
When clouds sign the sky with a distant plea for their February fates, I walk against the wind, right hand reaching across my bone-bored body into the left breast pocket of my coat to keep it closed
Flicked up as always by @noahs.nikon and @liviapinkk
Hit Kenk harder than ever @noahs.nikon ….. you guys know how you think and think and sometimes it just won’t stop and when it does, well, the unsaid thoughts just sit in the back of my brain collecting dust, disturbed by these big breaths of smoke swirling and when I do actually say something, you know, an attempt to get it off my mind and into the wide world— but really, I’m just telling you what I don’t know and what you don’t need to hear so I should just let it sleep soundly— cover my mattress with sheets cleaner than my soul and tuck it in and let it sleep sleep sleep soundly, not waking at seven when sunlight screams and not at nine, nothingness surrounding me— it can wake at ten when I pick up my pen to write and there it goes into my journal but that’s never enough, is it, so I often end up opening my mourning mouth and anxiety flutters out and then it’s flying around and around, lands on my cluttered wall and laughs at me as I continue to think and think and think…
“The photographer gives you a photo and within the photo is an infinite mirror of brain, of dome…Noah tells you: it’s an infinite mirror of dome representing the infinite possibilities of the mind.” Thanks for the sick ass photos @noahs.nikon 😁😁😁
I wonder which of my Halloween costumes would win in a fight, I’d bet on Matilda. Jigsaw would capture her and she’d j snap his neck, simple.
If ur ever wondering where Waldo is, he’s probably out smoking or crying in bed ‘cause you haven’t checked up on him in a while
Je commençais à m’énerver en voyais des gens alterner les photos de costumes dans un poste de instagram mais Je comprendre donc exusez-moi d’avoir porté un judgement, je admettre mes fautes 🤗
p.s. I had to use so much google translate for that John, my bad
