#bohemian writer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

radianttruthsii · 2 months

Text

Artist Vali Myers in Saint Germain Des Pres, Paris, 1951, photo by Ed van der Elsken

#vali myers #artist #writer #bohemian #muse #1950s #ed van der elsken

127 notes · View notes

rhymingtherapy · 8 months

Text

August’s escape is a room with a view;

lined with shadow boxes ivy trellises & green fairy lights

an enchanted place filled with mirror moons & apothecary jars

where botanical essences from last summer’s harvest entice soft hearts & haunted minds

with smudges of sagebrush wormwood flavoured wine & bohemian life

a sanctuary where anything is possible

an oasis —on the inside

.

RhymingTherapy—August 2023 (my photo taken this week @Monet in Paris immersion exhibition)

326 notes · View notes

size-attention-memory · 1 day

Text

#katekyo hitman reborn #classic car #skateboard #needlework #maisie williams #writers block #ff14 #dead #sims 4 clothes #bohemian rhapsody

129 notes · View notes

randomgirl005 · 2 months

Text

22 notes · View notes

hushedhippie · 3 months

Text

6am cleansing journal sessions as the cats rip through the house🕯️

#personal #hipster #hippie #boho #good vibes #hippie vibes #bohemian #happy #peaceful #peace #it’s all good #aesthetic #journal #writer #hippie home #boho home

27 notes · View notes

frogerlove · 10 months

Text

End of Summer Queen Bingo

I’m so excited to share Froger Love’s first event! End of Summer Queen Bingo is a fun and easy event for writers and artists. It will run from June-August, and new bingo cards will be provided at the beginning of each month. All ships are welcome.

All you have to do is create fics and art based on our works, submit your works to our ao3 collection End of Summer Queen Bingo (EOS2023), and #froger love.

35 notes · View notes

tuurverheydepoetryandprose · 7 months

Text

Romance and Reality

The problem with me is I'm a romantic, and I can't help romanticize my desires, situations & decisions. Inevitably, the unromantic banality of reality crashes down with all the disillusionment and growing pains that entails.

When I was a depressed student, I romanticised the hell out of that. I fully bought into the "tortured artists are the best artists" line, but when you find you can't get out of bed, you hate everything you write, you hate yourself, you both cling to friends and alienate them... there's nothing romantic about that, it's just pitiful and sad. Looking back I am just furious at the years I wasted feeling sorry for myself, basking in the righteous anguish of the tortured poet. It was just so silly and so stupid. I got over it, but you can't make up for the lost time, nor for the psychological impediments you've buried deep inside your psyche. I am still dealing with them years later.

When I was working part-time as a TA at my Alma Mater, I romanticised that too, romanticised teaching literature to students, romanticised my future academic work, the potential of an academic's life. But when I didn't hear from my team for an entire summer, I took a step back. I realized then that there were no future prospects in academia that would make for a bearable living. There is no long-term living in academia, no peace of mind, no stability, no unambiguously rewarding passion. There's nothing romantic about a lacking life-work separation, expected overworking, short-term contracts, and being resented by students for wanting them to do better. So, I quit.

The situation I find myself in at the moment seems entirely unromantic at first glance: an unromantic job, an unromantic living situation and the unromantic prospects of just writing and publishing without any acclaim or acknowledgment, fame or fortune. There's no romance here in what could be, no exciting prospects or promises of extravagant potential.

And yet, there is a profound contentment to be found in a life chosen for its simplicity; in writing and creating for yourself, in leaving the pressure of performance & productivity behind, in living with loved ones, providing and doing your part, gradually reconnecting to your roots, finding pleasure and pride in locality, in the ways and history of your family and hometown. There is true romance in quietly, imperceptibly being yourself and working at whatever makes you happy.

For the longest time, I thought the romantic life I wanted, the only life that was valid as a creative, was the big-city bohemianism of the freelance writer, academic, content creator or whatever. But I found such a lifestyle to be cold, unsound, individualistic and uncaring.

So to anyone who's like me, whose romanticism seems to compel them to live a life that seems unfit for them: you have not failed as a writer, an artist or an academic if you can't live the life of instability and precarity that is associated with the 'greats.'

You are not less creative, passionate, talented or worthy for not sacrificing the livability of your existence on the altar of conventional success.

14 notes · View notes