ayy i'm fallow, thanks for stopping by!
i'm a simple storyteller lookin for a place to put my random thoughts. (and art, occasionally!)
nice ta see ya traveller, hope you enjoy your stay!
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(i am friendly u may send in asks for the above or any other reason)
Podcast-[by suns and stars]
bee want talk bout communication.
lots people go "oh bee no talk must be hard cause hard communicate" but is like.
issue not bee nonverbal, before when verbal was still big issues.
brain just. can't.
no way work out word things right that allistics understand easy.
autistics better understanding bee but just is. not talk not issue, issue brain and words.
bee say prefer sign cause easier communicate, and is true! sign more information dense, more flexible, make more sense bee. but still struggle lots. get overwhelm. is just hard.
bee put on brave face lots, cause hate people say that should just learn talk cause communicate easier.
but no matter what, people always always misunderstand bee. very few people understand. real only other who think bee.
and just frustrate. make want hide, never communicate, hate hate hate. just wish people understand.
Looking at the star-filled sky, I sometimes imagine it as a flowering garden, sometimes a dark, dangerous sea, sometimes a taciturn face flooded with tears.
Nikos Kazantzakis, tr. by P. A. Bien, from “Report To Greco,” publ. c. 1961
We should appreciate rainbows more. They sound like a fictional creation you would see in books or shows, but they actually exist. A rainbow is just a part of nature and science.
It's a rare phenomenon, but to look up into the sky and see all the colors arcing across the cloudy sky as sunlight breaks through... it's a marvellous sight.
Reading a long book in a few days and then coming back to face reality after after it ends is probably the closest we can experience to a time-traveller who has just returned from a journey that lasted for years back to his time where everything looks like they've just left.
You’ll care only about the darkness and you’ll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you’re some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay. It will get so bad you’ll be afraid to look away, you’ll be afraid to sleep.
Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves
Folk songs are the best songs because they weren't made up with like, technique and performance in mind but just for the fun and joy of it. I mean people shouldn't be shamed for being 'bad' singers(and that;s like. by the music industry standards. which already makes no sense) anyway, no matter what it is they're singing. I guess what I'm trying to say is that folk songs-like, litteraly, the people's songs- really embody what music is all about at its core and all the best stuff about it, with the way they come to be.
who cares what games we choose? little to win, but nothing to lose
did stella spend hour earlier on mad mod art? maybe
was incense & peppermints on loop entire time? yes
mousey mousey maybe cut your hair
[ID: a cold blue toned digital artwork depicting a gray anthro mouse with straight black hair, icy blue strip marking under mouth and two under the eyes of the same color. They are in a black hoodie and their messy hair falls into their tired eyes. They look into a light screen of a pad that floats below their head. The background is dark purple with lighter blue strokes of light. Foreground is what looks like an obscure cloud of light. End ID]
People think that these memories that you return to over and over are like coins. Ancient coins of gold and silver that wear away and wear away beneath your caressing fingers, eventually disappearing with the passing of time.
But I do not think that these memories are coins. I do not feel them withering away. I think that they are more like a piece of sand in the mouth of an oyster, gaining laquer and luster each time that I return to them.
And maybe they are different than they were before--the only truth remaining at the center in that little piece of grit, but I have made them into artwork in my mind, all the colors brighter and the senses happier. I have made them into a place of retreat, a lovely sanctuary of memory and fantasy and I can live with not remembering the truth.