The Jeweled Skeletons were originally found in catacombs beneath Rome in 1578, and distributed as replacements under the belief they were Christian martyrs to churches that had lost their saint relics in the Reformation. However, for most, their identities were not known. The receiving churches then spent years covering the revered skeletal strangers with jewels and golden clothing, even filling their eye sockets and sometimes adorning their teeth with finery. Yet when the Enlightenment came around they became a little embarrassing for the sheer amount of money and excess they represented, and many were hidden away or disappeared. Koudounaris tracked down the dead survivors. [ x ] [ x ] [ x ]

(via vintagegal)

vintagegal:

Edwin L. Wisherd - Children on a Giant Oak Tree, Louisiana, c. 1929 (via)

I need to get myself close to a tree like this soon. 

vintagegal:

Edwin L. Wisherd - Children on a Giant Oak Tree, Louisiana, c. 1929 (via)

I need to get myself close to a tree like this soon. 

I made it back from my dog walk just as the slow rolling thunderstorm hit, and so I climbed back into my bed with the windows open and the breeze on my skin. I feel crappy this morning and I think it’s from dirty beer lines, because I only had two and was in bed early. It’s ok, though, I don’t have anywhere to be for a little while so I’m just going to float here a bit and listen to the rain and watch the lightning through my eyelids. Napping at 9:30 am like a boss.

I.
We could have grown apart the old fashioned way- watched our love get old with the seasons. Maybe it would have left us in the fall. I could’ve written a poem about how winter felt without you.

II.
We could have broken each other’s hearts quietly. It could have been sad but simple- you’d stop laughing at my jokes and I’d fall asleep before you even came to bed. Even if our love had to die, we didn’t have to rip it apart.

III.
I want to go back in time and kiss our foreheads. I want to apologize to our younger selves for what we are going to do to them. I want to tell them to pack their things and leave in the night before they set each other on fire. Go. Go now. You don’t have any idea what is coming for you.

IV.
It didn’t have to hurt this much. I shouldn’t still be reeling. We could have watched our love grow old with the seasons.

— Fortesa Latifi - we could have watched our love grow old (via madgirlf)

(via moonlitdirt)

Me, right now. Except brunette, and I’m not fond of pearls.

Me, right now. Except brunette, and I’m not fond of pearls.

(via isolatedhibernator)

biorhythmist:

oldhollywood:

Katharine Hepburn as Amazon warrior princess Antiope & Colin Keith-Johnston as Theseus in stage production of The Warrior’s Husband (1932) (Corbis)

I’m gonna need a minute

I just…I can’t… I… oh, swoon. 

biorhythmist:

oldhollywood:

Katharine Hepburn as Amazon warrior princess Antiope & Colin Keith-Johnston as Theseus in stage production of The Warrior’s Husband (1932) (Corbis)

I’m gonna need a minute

I just…I can’t… I… oh, swoon. 

It’s impossible not to fake it at least a little bit when the sun moves around to the front of the porch.
Man, this shirt makes my boobs look five times larger than they are, which makes my back hurt just looking at them. 
OK, back to this terrible poem (it’s not actually all that terrible, but it’s also not very good) before I have to head to rehearsal, where I hope to nail my songs again like I did for the most part last night. Except for that one impossible spot of melody in the devil song that my brain refuses to acknowledge. 

It’s impossible not to fake it at least a little bit when the sun moves around to the front of the porch.

Man, this shirt makes my boobs look five times larger than they are, which makes my back hurt just looking at them. 

OK, back to this terrible poem (it’s not actually all that terrible, but it’s also not very good) before I have to head to rehearsal, where I hope to nail my songs again like I did for the most part last night. Except for that one impossible spot of melody in the devil song that my brain refuses to acknowledge. 

johnnyideaseed:

daveboogie:

Here is a pic of Grace Jones shoving cake into Divine’s mouth at what I believe was Grace’s 30th birthday party…you’re welcome!

It’s like “The Creation of Adam,” but relevant to my interests.

johnnyideaseed:

daveboogie:

Here is a pic of Grace Jones shoving cake into Divine’s mouth at what I believe was Grace’s 30th birthday party…you’re welcome!

It’s like “The Creation of Adam,” but relevant to my interests.

(via cognitivedissonance)

The top one is a mugshot from a few days ago. The bottom is right now. In the top one I was totally faking it because sunshine! Right now I’m not buying what you’re pumping up my arse. The sun is shining and still everything is poo. 

I have a dress with almost identical cut and pattern, but it’s blue and white, and it fits exactly the same way and I’ve been tempted on two occasions to wear it just like this this. Flip!

I have a dress with almost identical cut and pattern, but it’s blue and white, and it fits exactly the same way and I’ve been tempted on two occasions to wear it just like this this. Flip!

(via mamitah)

I would like to be the recipient of the following sometime this week:

- A freshly made, still warm beignet
- Oral sex

One after the other.

Order unimportant. 

debshock:

In case “Fuck you” ever gets old.

Indeed.

debshock:

In case “Fuck you” ever gets old.

Indeed.

Rage headache. 

Going to go sit in the sun with an iced coffee at my side, and work on a poem.

that said

and as Cary said, work, work, work, get thee outside. I’m hanging laundry on the line, and continuing with the raspberry cane cluster flock, and touching up my roots with henna and indigo, and dealing with other hair situations, and putting laundry away, and pulling some dead plants out of the veggie garden, and cleaning the freezer, and cleaning out another kitchen cabinet, and generally trying to stay as busy as possible, all while singing my songs for the musical, and attempting to not hash my failed marriage in my head. That part’s the hardest. I can’t fathom this, but it’s happened, and is happening, and so I must find a way to live my life within this awfulness. Maybe someday my life won’t taste so sour and bitter on my tongue. 

Feeling helpless and hopeless and frozen. I could sit here and stare at the pale blue wall all day, just track the sun by my shadow projected, let the hours drain away. I don’t want to feel like this any more.