Down the Rabbit Hole, painting by Zack Dunn

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Putrid Must Be the Hell by MortLeMalinconia

my pixel of the week! i love doing these girly pink pixels. c:

Things have been good lately. They've been good for a long time, but this week I feel like "lately" is better than it was last week. I'm still trying to write a book- some weeks I get far, and some I don't. Some day's its all I can do to stay in the places I'm supposed to stay in - on the bus and at work, and in my bed at 9PM - , though it's difficult to come to the crippling realization that some days, many weeks, I just won't feel like the spark is there when I actually have the time to sit and write the damn thing. It's been most difficult to come to terms with that, that I have to keep going on and trying every day until I have something that's complete, even if that means I have to genuinely try rather than producing a once-in-a-lifetime work of art and majesty, showing my complete mastery and utter stroke of young genius the first go at it, making the crowd 'oo' and 'ah' as I trapeze my mania-induced self onstage, flinging the hunk of paper and cardboard in the air as I walk away to do it again, when the 'manic genius', little fairy comes again. The time for that has passed. I'm only 29, and yes, I know that is still very young, but long-gone are the days of prodigy. I either try, or I do not, and what I do every second of every day is going to determine the rest of my life, the rest of the tomorrows that line up in a row waiting to be plucked out as 'the best one'. They're all 'the best day ever', if I make it so. If I make it so, I can be a God to my own set of worlds, bright and clear on the page. I suppose, that's why I keep coming back here, to write to an invisible confessional.

It's summer in LA now. R and I are thinking of leaving California, to go to Florida. To be closer to family. I miss them a lot, but I feel like they've all forgotten me. Other members of my family moved across the country, some out of the country, and they're so much more...in touch with their immediates. My dad will call if he hasn't heard from me in a few weeks, but other than that...I don't know. We've all always had a really strained relationship. It hurts, and I know the only way out of that is to do something about it, but I don't know how. I mean, I DO know how: I have to talk to them more. But when they don't bother talking to me, I feel like....would they even care? Do they think about me? It's hard to imagine a life without any of them in it, though I do wonder sometimes if other people even bother thinking crazy shit like this to begin with.

Eclipse of the Sun in Venice in July 8, 1842 by Ippolito Caffi.

a journey of pain, growth and persistence

𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊’𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖘

my grip on your flesh

Väinö Rouvinen (Finnish, b. 1932, Tuupovaara, North Karelia, Finland) - A Cat, 1995, Color Etching, Aquatint

Took a quick roadtrip to Kentucky and found this.

Apollo shrine, Italy, by Associazione Tradizionale Pietas

Katsushika Hokusai:Reflection in Lake Misaka, Kai Province, 1830-1833