Gothphrodite - - Gothphrodite -

MORTAL, ON THE GROUND, DRENCHED IN SWEAT AND TEARS: are you a nightmare? are you a dream? APHRODITE, BARING HER TEETH, DRENCHED IN BLOOD AND ASH: I am everything inbetween.

no mortal words define her - a. CLAW (via merflk)

when the 60s said miniskirts with knee-high boots they were right

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. 

saying “you are a burden on society” is just such a weird framing of priorities It’s like saying “wow, think how much better gas mileage your car would get if you weren’t sitting in it” or “think how dry that umbrella would be if you weren’t holding it in between you and the rainstorm”. the things we create? they’re for us. they are meant to carry us. they are meant to protect us. we are meant to hold them up to keep us dry. 

“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)

Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss.

Joan Didion (via mythologyofblue)

might fuck around and start dating the demon from the corner of my room

being a woman is like…yeah lol you can pursue self-fulfillment and happiness on the side but don’t forget your main eternal quest is for unattainable beauty and ritual degradation 

“ On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping

White Ophelia floats like a great lily… ”

lots of artists can fill their work with aching homosexual tension, but no one else can make the impending sodomy look quite as classy and exquisitely dressed as Leyendecker can. God bless you, sir.