Washed Out. @sarahodg (at Mr Small’s Funhouse)
"Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life."
An untranslatable, Russian word – Vladimir Nabokov describes it best: “No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.” (via les-espaces-et-les-sentiments
Sufjan Stevens Renames Kitchen Appliances
Perishables! Come Congregate in the Cold!
Little Hot Waves, Or, Let’s Get Brain Cancer While We Wait For The Popcorn
Mix Your Drinks! (Stir! Whip! Purée!)
A Configuration of Whisks Which, When Activated, Allow Sufjan Stevens to Cook a Fluffier Omelette
Toaster (For the Toastless)
"At least you love me." I say to my pet as I hold them against my chest as they try to get away