#imaginary landscaping is my passion

[swirlmup]

Pages 1 and 2 out of 7!

Will link future pages here as a master post as I complete them in the future.

Had my own thoughts on the whole Astarion + The Last Unicorn thing, and ended up drawing a whole comic about it. So yeah, hope you guys enjoy and stay tuned!

The Unicorn

Next page!

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#art #fanart #comic #fancomic #bg3 #astarion #the last unicorn #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #designing the unicorn was fun #it's based heavily on how it's described in the book #but i took some liberties here and there in terms of palette and other small details #when you think about it the way it's described unicorns are kind of nightmare horses lol #and if you think it looks normal now #wait. #imaginary landscaping is my passion

[night-chant]

MLQC Scenario - Hidden Talent

If I miraculously and accurately linked your actual hobby with your favourite dude, how??--- I-I mean, yes it was on purpose of course! (I didn’t even get mine right XD)

Featuring: MLQC Guys + reader

Synopsis: You have a great passion for your favourite pastime, but for some reason, you’re too shy to let anyone know about it but then he finds out on his own.

Warning: Fluff (except Victor’s??)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Victor:

Creative writing

Sometimes poetry but often, creative writing since you loved spending time working on your historical romance novel. You never showed it to anyone, in fear that it would be ridiculed for any cliché use that you cherished.

At first, Victor assumed you were just writing a report on your laptop but sometimes, your eyes would light up as you eagerly typed out multiple sentences.

Did you find your report on Miracle Finder’s plummeting ratings that entertaining to analyze?

“How’s the progress?” he asked from behind and you hastily flipped the computer shut.

“Okay, I guess.” The light in your eyes instantly vanished.

Huh. He should’ve known. “The deadline is in two days. Did I give you too much time to spare?” When you didn’t answer, he went on: “What are you writing?”

“You’re going to say it’s stupid.”

“If you expect me to say that everytime a dummy does something, I’d lose my voice already. I only say if it is truly disastrous. Let’s see it.”

You reluctantly handed the laptop over. You started a couple of pages on chapter 18, but you expected he’d glance at the first few lines and turn back to you. Instead, he took a few minutes, perusing with a blank scowl.  

Any hope shattered when he started pointing out all the grammatical errors and that the plot so far isn’t logical. Your face felt hot. He was treating even your story as a report.

“The girl should’ve told him the truth in the very beginning,” Victor said, “so none of this mess would happen.”

Your blood was boiling. What, now he’s the CEO of some publishing company?? “Yeah, well, maybe he’d just call her a dummy and dismiss what she says like he always does!”

. . .

Victor would turn and leave with your laptop. Starting from page one, he would read each dialogue and analyze the characters more carefully.

You two will not end up like that couple. Not if he could help it.

Lucien:

Painting

You enjoy nature, especially animals and landscapes.

Sometimes, Lucien and you took a stroll around the forest by the Loveland University so you could get some real-life references.

No matter how vibrant the pigments were, they never drew Lucien’s attention away from you and your concentrated scowl and the slight peek of your tongue as you carefully painted an arc for the branch of a willow tree.

“They don’t look right,” you mumbled, breaking his trance. “But I’m not sure why.”

“Your hand is shaking,” he said, reaching out. “Here, I’ll hold it still for you.”

Maybe it’s because you were embarrassed that you didn’t realize the issue before or maybe because he was leaning very close, but your hands were shaking even more.

However, with gentle guidance, the branches you drew together were natural and lovely, interlaced with one another just like your hands.

Kiro:

Dancing ft. singing

If the rhythm is inspiring or if it’s just your favourite song, you’d probably be in an imaginary music video in the next moment. (Of course, when you were alone.)

Back to reality, it was Kiro who dances but he usually sings more in his performances in concerts.

He didn’t expect you to be a dancer too.

Kiro came home earlier than usual one day. Savin had let him go ONLY because he wasn’t acting too rebellious that day.

Before Kiro even opens the front door, he heard blaring music, almost reverberating off the wall.

His approaching footsteps were completely muted and a familiar voice was singing both parts of a duet song. Then after, an eerily familiar song . . .

You didn’t notice him as you were dancing away to his latest single.

But when you do, all you wanted was to hide in a closet.

But he thought Miss Chips was adorable and gushed about your accurate choreography.

You both probably ended up dancing to Kpop or Disney songs.

Gavin:

Knitting and needlework

Your mother taught you the basics, but you loved the activity so much that you made your own small, simple projects.

Sometimes, Gavin returns from missions with torn clothes and you were always willing to sew them up again if possible.

He finds your talent in knitting very intriguing, how your fingers and yarn and needles danced around one and another like hummingbirds.

Subconsciously, he thinks about the future, when you two would be older and when you would be making knitted garments for your two’s grandchildren.

Wait what do you do with all the clothes you knit now?

One day, he informed you that he would be away for a long mission.

You were bummed. “You have to return on the 20th or earlier! Or else I won’t stop knitting this very scarf until you do!”

When Gavin got back, he noticed that the scarf was pretty long.

“You did take breaks, did you?” he asked, holding your hands as he examined them.

You rolled your eyes when he took your joke to heart and so literally.

You wrap the long scarf around him (maybe a couple times keep it clear from the ground, even considering his height).

Good thing the scarf was big enough to cover part of his face because his ears and cheeks grew pink from your gentle gesture.

He untangled the scarf just enough to loop it around you too, narrowing the distance between you two until you were against his chest.

“Thank you.”

He liked to wear it during autumn and winter ever since.

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I’m writing this as I wait for a game to download reeee

Masterlist

#this was so oldddd lolol #and some lines didn't age well but i didn't have the heart to change them #some did well tho cuz i wrote this before that christmas sr of gavin and mc with the big scarf yeEs #3/4 of these hobbies I tried once upon a time and uh my work on them is uhhh interesting... #never again #at least I write ..right?? #i'm barely clinging onto writing hElp #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fluff #mlqc headcanons #mlqc scenario #mlqc scenarios #love and producer #mlqc fanfic #mlqc x reader #mlqc victor #mr love lucien #mlqc kiro #mr love gavin

[ohc-and-the-music-tapes-archive]

Review of the Music Tapes performance, Daily Hampshire Gazette, 29 July 1999

transcript:

KEN MAIURI Clubland

a Magical Musical tour with the Music Tapes

I wish I could write the way the Music Tapes play music: with joy, endless creativity, and utter abandon. The experimental pop quintet from Athens, Ga. played Flywheel in Easthampton Tuesday, and though I left the show feeling dreamy and elated, now it’s 1:30 a.m. and I’m bleary in front of a computer screen. Wrestling with my pitiful usage of adverbs and adjectives. Trying unsuccessfully to describe the genius beauty of the group’s performance.

Maybe I should start with a quick tour of the Music Tapes’ fantastic landscape (also known as their stage setup). That giant hand-painted wooden rocket you see in the back is the seven-foot-tall wind-up metronome. Over to the right is the big blue wooden box with clapping hands out of the top — just raise the handle on the side of the box and they’ll clap. And here by the main microphones are two small pallets covered in amplified chicken wire, called “Landing Pads” — people jump up and down on those to make drum-like noises: Finally, right up front is Static. He’s a television with a face. He’s also a singing, full-time member of the group, Now you know your way around.

You can call these handmade contraptions gimmicks, but they’re integral to the world of the Music Tapes (even when they’re a little annoying and unnecessary, like that bulky and often inaudible metronome). The band, led by Julian Koster, exists as a way to play with the lines between fantasy and reality. As he once said in an interview, “When you’re a kid, you have all these dreams and this innate understanding of the universe, but you don’t have the skills to create things. Now, if you decided, you want a 50-foot talking cloud in your backyard, you can create it, and all of a sudden that’s a part of other people’s reality.” Hence the Mechanized Organ-playing Helmet and Static the Performing Television.

The band’s wild creativity transformed the “normal” elements of the performance, too. For example, the group’s sound was mainly built around the banjo (no electric or acoustic guitar in sight), which Koster strummed with electric guitar force or scraped with a violin bow. The instrumentation also included pump organ, bass guitar, trumpet, tuba, musical saw, melodica, toy piano, a couple of Walkman radios and even a bouncy red dodgeball. All of these things were perfect for making a racket, but just as often the Music Tapes used them to create weirdly beautiful harmony, with combinations of textures and simple but unconventional melodies that would’ve had “Pet Sounds”-era Brian Wilson smiling.

As striking as the band’s music often was, the Music Tapes had me hooked thanks to the passion with which they performed it. Believe me, they’re not writing songs like “March of the Father Fists” to make a buck — they’ve got their hearts invested in this quirky, personal material. Koster in particular sang emotionally at the top of his lungs, and early in the show jumped so hard and high on the chicken wire pallets that the stuff ripped beneath his sneakers. At one point during the set there were two smiling, sweaty band members pouncing pell-mell on the Landing Pads while another guy whipped the crank around on the metronome and the fourth guy played a sample of a train chugging — it was happy visual and aural chaos (and, for some reason, it reminded me of something out of “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”).

The band’s powerful, bizarre, and tuneful wave of sound was strongest on songs like “The Clapping Hands,” “Nomad Tell Us,” and “The Television Tells Us,” all of which can be found on the band’s debut CD, “1st Imaginary Symphony for Nomad.” BUT WE WARNED: the “studio” versions are drastically different, low-fi and sludgy to the extreme, containing virtually none of the vivid, full arrangements that the band created at Flywheel. The CD — recorded in various places over the span of four years — is a concept album that works fine on its own, but it pales in comparison to what the Music Tapes can create live, in person.

Which reminds me, they’re available to play your house, backyard, barn or fields. That’s not a joke. (The band subtitles itself “The Orbiting Human Circus,” with the motto, “The Greatest Show IS Earth.”) Look in their album liner notes for details, but the Music Tapes invite you to invite them to bring their life-affirming Imaginary Symphony to your neighbourhood. They may even bring a 50-foot talking cloud.

#the Music Tapes #Julian Koster #1st Imaginary Symphony for Nomad #1999 #articles #reviews

[davisbette]

1, 20, 72, & 95 for the late night train ask game!

1. What do you crave in a psychological sense? Intimacy, passion, purpose, belonging, social interaction, etc.?

I think all these concepts interconnect somehow. Social interaction (if done well) leads you to a sense of belonging, which can lead you to intimacy, which can also turn into passion. And i believe there is no greater purpose in one's life than to be able to be human, with all its nuances and complexities. So i crave and yearned for all these things. I'm starved for them, ravenous.

Quoting Mary Oliver:

so that I feel I am myself

a small bird

with a terrible hunger

with a thin beak probing and dipping

and a heart that races so fast

20. Do you think about your past or future more?

I don't think about my future, i don't imagine myself having one. In my mind i've created an imaginary place that is my childhood, like a decadent abandoned house, i am its only remaining inhabitant and i can't scape.

Quoting (again) Tove Ditlevsen:

“Childhood is long and narrow like a coffin, and you can’t get out of it on your own.” 

72. Who did you last say "I love you" to? Who last said it to you?

To my best friend. And my best friend last said it to me 🤍

95. Where do you wish you had grown up? Do you think your childhood's natural landscape had a role in the person you are today?

I'm pretty content with the place i've grown up.

And yeah, definitely. I have always lived surrounded by the sea and the forest, i couldn't stan living in a place with none of these things. I need nature, i love it and i belive in it.

#thank you so much Natalie! <3 such interesting questions #ask game

[zeldatoday]

I looked at my life like Fight Club, how have you looked at yours?

Aug 28

There was a point in my life that I felt as if the movie Fight Club, became my reality. Not to the full level of having an imaginary underground fight club and imaginary friends. But at a level it did feel like everything around me suddenly did not feel real

This moment of confusion and lost in the world started from a severe manic episode. The episode was caused after going off my psychiatric medication without medical assistance and loosing my corporate job. Creating a perfect storm of madness and hallucination. After loosing my job, I though that it actually meant it was time to create my destiny of being famous and creating a show on MTV. I made a list of all of my friends at the time that I wanted to be apart of this show. I set up a meeting telling everyone that we are going to create a show on MTV, that it is going to show us as creatives making our way into our music careers.

My Fight Club was about creatives. One thing that I was noticing in my short period of time living in New York is well there were creatives everywhere. The thing is though, most of these creatives are not in creative career positions instead most are your bartenders, baristas, servers, cashiers, etc. Coming home after their shifts, to continue working on whatever their creative endeavors are. My show idea was my Fight Club, determined that this idea was going to change the world and create an entertainment industry that is more accessible. The problem was when I was presenting this idea to my random group of friends that did not all know each other, is well nobody knew who we were yet. I picked friends that I know were creatives and had strong ties and passion for the music industry.

The goal was to present this idea to MTV producers to show them that the entertainment landscape was due for a change. That the industry needed to be more accessible, my motto was for the stage to no longer be for one person, but instead the stage was available for everyone. Featured in the show was going to be MEMZ Studios, a studio that would be gifted to us from MTV. A studio that would include all of the creative tools that we need to live out all of our creative dreams. Envisioning this studio, I saw a recording studio with any instrument that you can imagine, tools to design and create any clothing piece, every art supplies you can think of, a stage, costumes, makeup etc. Having all of these tools in one place and inviting a bunch of creatives to come together and collaborate in one studio space. Creating these studios across the country and world, giving people access to follow their dreams. Having the platform of MTV, to promote projects and receive recognition.

Of course I had my imaginary love similar to Marla in the movie. I have an old friend that I became convinced was my forever person. The person that I was going to save this world with. A little back story on this guy is that his father is in the CIA. As someone who is always searching after the secrets of the world, this became very interesting to me. This same guy also introduced me to rave culture and the art of DJing. Music was something that we really bonded with in our friendship. Soooo, during this time of thinking that I was about to change the world with my show on MTV, I also believed that this guy was creating me secret playlist. I read each song title, thinking that it was a riddle, that this guy was confessing his love for me.

During this time, nothing felt real, it felt as if I was living out this dream reality that I created in my head. There was a time after I ate some mushrooms, I was told during this trip that I was apart of the Illuminati. That the Illuminati was going to meet me and give me the contracts for my show on MTV. Since the guy I was convinced was my soul mate, Dad worked in the CIA, I thought they were as well with the Illuminati. I became convinced that the Illuminati was following me on the train. That the people sitting to me next on the train were not real, and actually apart of the Illuminati. Almost everyday during this time too, I would sit in my office and smoke a bowl. Looking out the window, waiting for a black suv to pull up. Inside the car I imagined the Illuminati with papers with MTV on it, and my “soul mate.” That the Illuminati would pull up and my so called lover would get out of the car and yell up at my window to tell me to come down from my tower lol. I would run down to my love and give him a huge kiss, I would hop into the car and my life would be changed for forever.

Similar to the end of the movie Fight Club, where the truth is revealed and everything once known became nonexistent. During a point where I was quarantined in my room with COVID, I was ready to really make this MTV show/my fight club a reality. So what did I do? I found every MTV producer I could on LinkedIn and Instagram, messaging them a video that I created explaining my show idea. Then as I was looking on MTV’s Instagram, I noticed they had a phone number that you could text. So of course I texted them and sent the video I made. MTV was hosting a live stream where they were posting any video people wanted to submit. Of course I wanted them to stream mine. During the time that I was texting MTV , it felt as if well the Illuminati was really there and this time they were mocking me. The host of the show would keep making comments about my video and bring up other celebrities and give hints that they controlled the careers of these celebrities. It hit me at this moment, I did not want MTV to own my work forever, and maybe I did not want to be apart of the “Illuminati” after all.

The next day in my quarantine, I decided to make a new plan on how I was going to change the world. I realized that most of us are so caught up in our own lives that we forget about the people around us. I was tired of making myself the center of attention for everything, I was ready to stop talking for once and allow the world to speak. I proceeded to make a list of interview questions that I would ask people on or off camera. The goal of these questions is to dive deeper into who people really are. Asking questions such as “how would you change the world” to promote bigger concepts such as world peace.

My Fight Club reality slowly came to an end as I got back into therapy and psychiatry. Working on a new project that allows me to learn from other people, hearing the stories through interviewing. Learning that this world is not just about me but actually about all the people around me. Living in a dream world can be okay but not to the point that everything around you does not feel real. This time in my life is something that I look back at and cringe a little. However at the same time this period in my life was important. It taught me that I am actually not in control, life is always going to move differently than your imaginary world

#adventure #outdoors #cosmic witch #nature #explore #conspiracy #cia #love story #love poem #love letters #Illuminati #mtv the show #mtv #vintage mtv #Youtube

[wanderlinguachronicles]

A Tapestry of Childhood: Nurturing Curiosity and Adventure

Hello, dear readers! 🌸 Today, I invite you to travel back in time with me as I unfold the chapters of my childhood. It's within those early years that the seeds of my passions were sown, shaping the person I am today. Join me as I paint a portrait of those days filled with wonder, exploration, and the magic of discovery.

A Linguistic Lullaby:

From the moment I could understand words, languages became my lullaby. Growing up in a family of linguists, my home resonated with the melodies of diverse tongues. My parents' conversations wove a tapestry of stories, effortlessly transitioning between languages like artists painting with a vibrant palette.

Puzzles and Enchanted Pages:

My days were often spent lost in puzzles and books. Puzzles were my gateway to understanding patterns – be it the intricate interplay of language sounds or the enigmatic allure of historical mysteries. And then there were books – doorways to countless worlds. Adventure tales, detective novels, and historical accounts became my companions.

Whispers of History:

With each story I read, my fascination with history deepened. The pages of my history books whispered tales of forgotten eras, distant lands, and remarkable individuals who shaped the world. I found solace in the past, drawing parallels between the adventures I read about and the stories my parents shared from their travels.

The Language of Play:

Playtime was a realm of its own. My siblings and I invented languages, crafted secret codes, and embarked on imaginary quests that took us to far-off realms. Each game was a microcosm of creativity, where language and imagination danced hand in hand.

A Glimpse of Formal Elegance:

Attending social events with my parents granted me a unique glimpse into the world of formal elegance. While other children may have balked at such occasions, I reveled in them. I observed the delicate art of conversation, learning to navigate diverse interactions with grace – a skill that would later become an invaluable asset.

Creating the Unseen:

Drawing and crafting were my way of creating the unseen. I brought fantastical worlds to life on paper – landscapes of castles, mythical creatures, and enchanted forests. In every stroke of color, I poured my dreams and inspirations, turning blank pages into portals to other dimensions.

A Wellspring of Inspiration:

As I reflect on those childhood days, I see them as a wellspring of inspiration. They were the foundation upon which my love for languages, history, and adventure was built. Each memory is a thread that weaves together the tapestry of my identity, reminding me that the curiosity and wonder of childhood are lifelong companions on my journey.

Thank you for joining me on this nostalgic voyage. Until next time, may your days be filled with the same curiosity and awe that color the canvas of our early years.

Warmly, Lada 🌟📚

#about me

[leverageurassets]

🌅 "Life is not about finding yourself; it's about creating yourself." - George Bernard Shaw 🌅⁣ Hey there, you! 🌹 It's me, your petite redhead dreamweaver, welcoming you to a world of luxurious adventures, heartfelt connections, and playful delights. Share with me in the comments which photo speaks to your soul the most. 📸 In this captivating dance of life, I invite you to waltz with me through the enchanting landscapes of your wildest dreams. Let's make each moment count, wrapped in the embrace of the setting sun, basking in nature's splendor, and savoring the joy of living life to the fullest. Together, we'll sway to the rhythm of our souls, embracing every sensation, like the sun-kissed mountain peaks we conquer. 🏔️ Feel the invigorating freshness of the air, and let it breathe new life into your spirit, as we indulge in the magical harmony of nature. 🌠 Beyond the breathtaking vistas, there's more to explore in the realm of the imagination. I'll be your guide, crafting custom content and long-form videos to spark your imagination and ignite your passions. Through imaginary roleplay, we'll dive into worlds of wonder, where every desire becomes a reality. 💼 But let me whisper a little secret to you, my discerning friend. The allure of luxury is not just a façade; it's a gateway to indulging in the finest moments that life has to offer. So let's embrace the beauty of these experiences together. ✨ As we traverse this exquisite journey, let's make each interaction a shimmering gem of connection. Remember, I'm here for you, always, to provide the attention you deserve and the camaraderie of a kindred spirit. ❤️ 🔥 So, as the sun sets on the horizon, let's celebrate life's sensual wonders together. 🌇 Let this moment be a reminder that life is too short to hold back from exploring its magic. Choose your favorite snapshot of this captivating dance, and let's revel in the beauty and rejuvenation that nature has bestowed upon us. 🌿 🎁 And before we part ways, I have a small request for you: if this dance of words resonates with you, tap that heart icon 💚 — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/F2dzhyt

#Instagram #IFTTT

[tryst-art-archive]

September 2012: "Why I Write"

Another day, another assignment in which I was terribly depressing. I feel bad for everyone who had to deal with me.

------Text follows---->

            It’s sad to say, but writing is becoming increasingly decentralized within my identity. There is exactly one universe and six (admittedly long) stories I’d like to tell, and after that, it would seem, my mind is barren. I’m not ready to give the whole endeavor up wholesale just because my priorities have shifted from glory to comfort and personal sustainability, but it seems only fair to admit that though I continue to write (on and off as the mood strikes), the act itself repeatedly falls by the wayside in favor of other pursuits—a social life I began far too late, web design, graphic design, copyediting, occasional photography, videogames, the simple task of turning the shell of a house into a home. It would seem that writing, in the way I have always understood it at least, has been but one of the necessary steps in the wobbling walk to my true, ever-unknown passion. But still, I must continue to write at least a little, as I must continue to think.

            I have always been better with the written word rather than the spoken version, and perhaps that is a product of circumstance—I spent the better part of my life online, shutting out the real world in favor of a much more soothing and accepting digital one, and to some extent I remain in that mode of thought; people terrify me—and practice. Years of conversation, discussion and debate, and journaling to an imaginary audience, all safely tucked away on the internet, prepared me for writing, and not speaking. (A retail job in my freshman year of college taught me to speak.) My thoughts poured directly from my mind into the ubiquitous comment box and from there, with little editing, out unto the world. In this way, writing and thought were and are synonymous for me. Thus, we have two initial reasons to explain my predilection for writing: it is easier for me than social communication, and it is a natural and effective way for me to think.

            I am and have been drawn primarily to fiction; I began generate a complex fantasy world and partially living within it through roleplay (online, where else?) and through the maintenance of what might be considered imaginary friends (in an eight-year-old, though I was much older at the time). Over the years, this world and its characters became more than just a set of tales, a set of peoples, and became a psychological landscape, a fantasy setting that is as much me as the human body and the human thoughts before you; it is equally representative and equally sensitive to interference. Yet, human beings are eager to share, to be seen and known and, most importantly, understood, and to that extent I have aimed toward writing out my world and its characters, and, thereby, myself. Thus we have reason three: to release the hounds!

            Still, the novels are not written, and any writing I might do outside of a classroom setting is nonexistent. I have taken every fiction course [...] College has to offer, and so I began in on poetry—not to my liking; I find myself too pretentious with poetry in my grip—and tried screenwriting—a class that drove me to my knees; never a Sunday night went by without tears—and now I would like to complete my quest to test every literary water [...] can offer me. I move now to drama—which seems promising—and nonfiction—which I meant to take years ago but somehow never got around to. I am here to try my hand at something I have only ever done as a hobby, a passing amusement, and in the most informal way possible; I am here to absorb and to try and to experiment and to come out the other side with a greater understanding of myself both as a writer and as a person, and if I have made some useful work in the process, then all the better.

#it huuuuuurrrrttss #oh my god it is so hard to read some of this stuff #like baby boi u were doing it to yourseeeellllfff!!! #old writing #writing archive #assignments #college #10s #2012 #Age 21 #personal essay #why i write #writing

[libidomechanica]

In all this must under the hundred vision of piastres

The doom is in fact, next a fairy     tail from them for a cov’ring all made of the earth resolves:     if now they both sides fish, honey, with new bonds their     provision, oh Thou Jewel utter’d

be. Some swore he has few, so     high treasure, cast like the sun the same hue, too full on Cymon’s     name did with his superior gracelesse herdgroome.     Opened wide, confounded

Arbitrary Lord: and thither     running for Refuge, and over the sovereign was store, she     hugg’d it soon the little know not, till at hands; the hopes were     not pluck them with barred window,

put out loud! The bell struck thee     from the Thrifty Sanhedrins to know the forest for most     Peace it self in her to the devil has sufficient weight     of heate so great with retching.

In all this must under the     hundred vision of piastres. In all the luckless landscape     green ribbon round, he looked in a formulated cantana     of the Vision grew

the Interpretation, nor     Usury wrung it. And Loue, while David have gain’d our Elders     tore my virgins bene, to punishes the Jews, and steal     to cancel private Crime

is come for a mask—was only     we, but mocker, comes the devil is it may be dispose     itself no further that she waked her and crammed with glaunceth     from my soul’s

imaginary sight. Of which before     to favourite to please it cause: there yet remain, and no     child will not lose. Be thou; although modest virgin-white, Weep     no more than her love’s fire!

Weak Arguments! Had yet a deep     vermilion, as is the first by the Muses friend, himself     had done he put a fairy treasured hours after Next Camus,     reverend tutor, Titus

the queen though firm, less grave, and     ev’ry tree a wealth, the praetor bent, nor who so fit for     the forests farther room but he died, not known them all for     long-staid night and play as

this; my love while the marmalade,     the solitary passion coold; so dexterous wines the     cliff the prov’d assays, At this time they feel. Not owing the     Veil thy Heaven some fair

arm raised of ladies and wide,     confounded thus the Government in the foam from her wave-worn     love were so you may buye gold tunnel I believed in not     the heart, sweet isle, where touch

but must die; do long travell’d on     the mosses the watercress so fine to see me. Holds my     young lad threw his Judgment continual haste. His father     and pain men really good,

as serv’d t once fired, as barren     ground, your infant animals could remove, and forgave     the bride with all the Aid my presents less? But Juan, so that     tells approach their delight

to those her lip, the Lorelei.     As is there will bang our flocks by shall not prove when I read     thy thought it is to tell upon the forehead rising clash     her Golden foot or a

fine extend a zealous pilgrim     wildered in their hopes, urg’d with a hole in it; of which     runs not count it stranger and Behold! Money: for food, but     shortest day, as she toils

a song neuer things theirs endured     the air, as thou art true, drugs poison and there. The honied     showers that mars a flowers. And some other would add fresh     and not betray’d. In days

long Chin prov’d assays, could not a     tear, my pain; and had built an air which I cannot do t     at home enjoys the pane, they knew not when one’s heart escape     writing of a fancy.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #216 texts #ballad

[amber-pimm]

introduction

I am going to my life in Birmingham through my sketchbook as this year I have moved out from living with my family and this is seen as a major step for many people. This major step is linked to independence. 

Research on everyday life and artists. 

*Wayne Thiebaud

This artist's paintings show birthday parties, family picnics and holidays at home as imagery. His artwork relays his childhood memories. A lot of his imagery is related to food, and this plays a crucial role in how he likes to remember his childhood. He was born in the 1920s so his way of remembering things is quite different to how we remember things nowadays as now we use smartphones to take images of what we have done to look back. 

Another inspiration for city landscapes in textiles is the work of Valerie Goodwin. She uses aerial views of cities as inspiration for her quilts. she designs them as maps based on both real and imaginary. She likes to create ideas from maps that have a story such as the African Burial Ground in Lower Manhattan

She studied architecture at a university in Washington. however, even with her passion for this, she could not let go of her passion for textiles. Which is what led to her combining these two interests. She uses piecing, paper piecing, hand applique, machine applique, hand quilting, machine quilting, and thread drawing, when creating her quilts.

I can relate this to my project as I will be showing the memories I have made with my friends throughout my year in Birmingham, which links to Wayne Thiebaud's work as he likes to put his favourite memories into his artwork.

As well as memories from my year living in Birmingham I will include scenery from around the city as this is something that can be very iconic in every city. every city has its own unique characteristics and certain pieces of architecture identify a city. This relates to the work of Valerie Goodwin as she uses maps in her work, which is another thing that is very unique to each city.

[mybeingthere]

LORNA HOLDCROFT paints her beloved Sussex in UK. She says that although her landscapes might look imaginary, she needs to visit the place and get a connection with it in order to paint it. 

https://www.jacksonsart.com/.../my-deep-passion-for.../

[mishinashen]

Italiens d’Albano by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, 1834

In the early years of the 19th century there were two approaches to landscape taken in French art. The classical tradition, modeled after the great Italian landscapists Annibale Carracci and Salvator Rosa and the French painters Nicolas Poussin, Claude Lorrain and Gaspard Dughet, was experiencing a renaissance, fueled by the theories of Pierre-Henri de Valenciennes. These artists maintained the idealized historical landscape while at the same time renewing it with a more realistic depiction of nature. The artists who embraced this ideology all traveled to Italy, were inspired by the great French and Italian masters of the 17th century, and were all painters of historical landscapes, humanistic in approach and recomposed in the studio. During his early years, and under the tutelage of Achille-Etna Michallon, the young Camille Corot was introduced to this school of artistic thought.

In contrast to this imaginary, idealized landscape of the Neoclassicists, another approach to painting was realistic, intimate and faithful to the topography of the actual sites, drawing more on the example of Dutch and Flemish painters of the 17th and 18th centuries. These two tendencies should not be viewed as opposites and the ease with which the French painters of the early 19th century assimilated aspects of both theories cannot be ignored. Admiration for Poussin was compatible with enthusiasm for Ruisdael, while embracing the work of Claude did not discount the contributions of Hobbema.

At this time, French artists also discovered the realism of the late 18th century English landscape artists, particularly that of John Constable and Joseph Mallord William Turner. These English artists set forth a new vision with an emphasis on realism and expressiveness which would also influence Corot throughout his long career.

Corot entered the studio of Michallon in 1822 where he threw himself into landscape painting. Michallon died shortly thereafter, but he exerted a profound influence on the young Corot who wrote: ‘I made my first landscape from nature at Arceuil under the eye of this painter, whose only advice was to render with the greatest scrupulousness everything I saw before me. The lesson worked; since then I have always treasured precision’ (T. Silvestre, Histoire des artistes vivant, français et étrangers: Études après nature, Paris, 1853, p. 75).

Michallon passed on to Corot his feelings for the Classical landscape tradition and through his first teacher, Corot developed the foundation of his own art, finding a balance between the realism of plein-air painting and the application of memory and imagination to works composed in the studio.

The young artist made his first trip to Italy in 1825 and remained there until 1828. While there he made numerous landscape and figure studies, architectural studies and spent a great deal of time studying the effects of light created by moving or still water and worked to master the play of light in space. Once back in France, Corot took great satisfaction in his Italian stay. He had amassed numerous studies which now embellished the walls of his studio, he had developed an excellent and unique technique for capturing nature and he had grappled with and succeeded at composing a large studio landscape which had been accepted by the Salon.

For Corot at this time, the study was an essential element that preceded the studio landscape. When working in the studio itself, the artist could dispense with the study, and instead rely on his memory and impressions. Italy had nourished his visual memories, and it was in this moment that Corot developed his passion for creating the souvenirs which would so dominate his later artistic career. The views he painted entirely or partially from nature on his return from Italy are regarded as among his most beautiful and accomplished. The artist demonstrated a complete mastery of perspective, light and construction that would pervade his life’s work and serve to inspire a generation of artists that would follow him.

In the years immediately following his return from his first trip to Italy, Corot exhibited frequently and regularly at the Salon. In 1831, he exhibited four paintings, in 1833, he exhibited one painting, and then in 1834, he showed three paintings, probably including the present lot under the title Site d’Italie. During this period, the paintings that he showed at the Salon had essentially two themes: views based upon his studies and memories of his trip to Italy, and views of the forest of Fontainebleau.

Italiens d’Albano was composed in Corot’s studio in 1834, most likely just before his second trip to Italy which lasted only six months. The work incorporates the artist’s memories of this picturesque area just outside Rome where he spent a significant amount of time during his first excursion abroad. The classical influence of his formative years under the tutelage of Michallon and his second teacher Jean-Victor Bertin is clearly demonstrated in Italiens d’Albano; however, all of the elements that contributed to the successes of his later career and earned him the title ‘Poet of the Landscape’ are evident in this charming painting.

The artist has adroitly mastered the aerial perspective, leading the eye of the viewer from a point above the landscape itself, down the winding path, through the light green meadow and to the shores of Lake Albano. The artist’s penchant for dividing the landscape into distinct fore, middle and background is accomplished with the addition of figural groups; the caped figure walking the path by the two seated women, the man in the red vest walking up the hill, the shoreline of Lake Albano and the architectural element in the far background all work together seamlessly to take the viewer on a walk through a landscape. The effects of light and shadow on the landscape itself, from the darkened rocky outcroppings that dominate the right side of the painting, to the sunlight illuminating the middle ground, to the shimmering water under the clear Italian sky in the near background, demonstrate the burgeoning abilities of an artist who would ultimately become the spiritual link between Poussin and Sisley, Claude Lorrain and Monet.

#french art

[ammalythic]

The diary of a Norwegian troll

[Sorry for my bad English, I'm French. I do my best]

My oldest memories date from my 5 years.

I remember my last year of kindergarten. During this period, I had a "click" compared to other children my age. I quickly felt out of step. First of all because my way of defending myself was very childish but also because I was a clumsy, hypersensitive, anxious, nervous, anxious, obsessive, maybe even having a certain dyspraxia. I was diagnosed much later with Asperger's.

It is true that, since my elementary school, I have always had the role of the "scapegoat". I couldn't integrate myself. They called me "the plague". I was the contagious beast that you should never approach.

I do not know the exact origin of these mockery (which lasted until college). I have always been stigmatized by others without ever really understanding why. I wasn’t an unhappy kid though, it was just like that and that’s all, "fatality". Sometimes I was jealous of well-integrated people but nothing more.

Many children have been subjected to bullying at school. Many children have been stigmatized, described as "bizarre" or "different". And, while this is absolutely terrible, other children have experienced sexual assault. Not all of them, however, began to identify as creatures. No, in reality, something happened in my head. In fact, I began to consider myself "non-human." Maybe because of the stigma, maybe because of the disgust of the human being, or whatever.

After all, in my stories, humans always played the role of villains. At that time, I was already clearly saying to myself "I am not a human". I thought I was some kind of alien sent to Earth, on a mission or something like that. It must, among other things, explain my difference from other kids. I don't know if I really believed it, but I know I wanted to believe it. I thought I was close to Adi / Adibou, an alien character from a French video game / children's series.

I remember, at the end of the lessons, I explained to my "best friend" that my father secretly built a rocket to bring me back to my real planet.

In primary school, I started to read many fictions. Harry Potter being my favorite (especially fantastic creatures). I read about witches, fairies, vampires, dragons and werewolves. I felt like they could understand me better than anyone.

I particularly liked the comic strip "Witch". In this fiction, there is a “Metamonde” named “Méridian” populated by “hideous” but nice creatures. I felt good reading these stories and made up my life there, accompanied by these benevolent monsters.

My favorite scene was obviously the one where the professor turns into a monster: her true form.

So I saw my creatures like this: Often green/brown skin, troll or elf ears, triangles on the coat, fangs, claws, often horns and a long tail.

I invented for them a new way of life, more wild and animal (because in this book, the beings of Méridian live as in the Middle Ages). I was this kind of alien from an alternative world, I also saw myself with a lion or cat tail. My imaginary diet consisted of insects, snakes, fruits and berries.

I saw myself living in a cave or a burrow (or a house like that of the Barbapapas / Teletubbies) and I developed a passion for digging in the ground. Listening to the song “dig a tunnel” (The Lion King 3), watching “The Magic School bus” or reading “My adventure under the ground” (French children's book) giving me real well-being and a feeling of inexplicable complicity with the characters. So, my aliens liked to play in the mud, get dirty, dig, collect insects and molluscs, just like me.

  Our way of life was simple, a bit like Peter Pan's “lost boys”. The group behaviors were mainly animal (body, ear and tail position) and play and behave like animals (in one of my “fictions”, I said that the aliens bit their tails to play) .

Mine wore a simple loincloth, clothes didn't matter (just like for me in "real life".)

I remember a few anecdotes about my aliens: I imagined their daily life before sleeping or whenever I had time.

I don't prefer to go into details. I just remember that I had two imaginary best friends and I visualized them in our world as soon as possible. We had a special treasure, made up of spiders, snakes, insects, bones, feathers and snake molts, something that wicked human villains. My creatures could speak "human" but it was extremely painful for them.

Subsequently, I invented all kinds of stories of humans "not quite human" but these "aliens" were the first.

When I was 9 years old, I started to lock myself up mentally, to live only in my head. I discussed my creatures with my friends, my need to see them, to imagine their suffering as an outlet One of the girls spoke about it - at school - in the canteen, in front of all the students. I was so ashamed that I erased my texts with white corrector before tearing them up and throwing them in the trash (something I bitterly regret today).

Right after entering school, I reconciled with my mental critters and tried to accept them. During an alien-themed drawing assignment, I was shocked to see myself having a bad grade when I had a strong feeling of having shown the "absolute truth".

I also created a fiction about my aliens, to explain on the internet how they exist. Then I was ashamed, I was afraid of mockery, so I erased everything (I'm even more disappointed now).

When I was 12, I experienced the most incredible trip, that of visiting Norway. I saw the troll figurines, the songs, the landscapes and it was a revelation: I was also a troll, from the start! Everything matched: The physical, the way of living, the habitat, the food, the animality ... EVERYTHING! I later had this strong feeling of having an invisible tail and ears that only trolls could also see.

Small comparison between the creature of my 5 years and that with which I identify myself today:

Then, over time, I moved away from the trolls, I developed - badly influenced by "friends" - that I had to be a much more powerful and fierce creature, like a vampire or a werewolf. I was lost, turning sometimes to angels, sometimes to wizards: I was magic and non-human, it was obvious.

Screen capture from one of my blogs in 2011 (in French)

Translation : “I always felt a little different from others but for me all the weird phenomena I was going through were part of me! I thought everyone was like this! Then one day, I realized that what was happening to me was strange. I was a little panicked and asked on the internet if it was okay to act like this. Two people made me understand that no and that I should not worry because after all, I have always been like this and learning who I am will not change anything. For about a month, they didn't explain the basics to me, what to do and what not to do. Then, little by little, I tried to manage on my own, continuing to ask them for advice from time to time.” (2011)

Translation : “I’m a creature of the night, half animal half human “ (2011)

Traduction : "I am very close to nature, the forest is my favorite place. I feel close to plants and animals, maybe even more than human beings, I think. I am more animal than human." (2011)  "I feel different from other humans, I feel more like a 'forest human'. I feel constantly connected with nature and animals. I feel closer to animals (especially wolves and foxes) than men. Sometimes I feel like I can go so far as to lose control: I attack, I bite, I claw. Humans probably see me as a monster. " (2011)

See the movie Twilight played on my animality (I was young, too). And many people tried to convince me that I was an overpowered werewolf ...

Then I discovered the otherkins community in 2012, after very long researches to discover myself, I was disturbed by this resemblance. I then turned to therianthropy and the European badger, abandoning this "troll" side that was also in me ...

So today, I search over and over for ancient writings that would have survived. I'm trying to find bridles from my non-human childhood.

The troll must also be seen as a pillar of my existence. A pillar that, unfortunately, that I absolutely don’t assume ...

#otherkin #therian #french #français #english #anglais #identity #feeling #kin #shift #childhood #awake #awakening #troll #norway #theriomythic #phantom limbs #animal #alien #diary #reflection

[awed-frog]

Do you have any advice for someone who’s really struggling to study? I’m really stressed and demotivated, and I can’t seem to sit down and just study. In my country we only have virtual classes so maybe It has something to do with that, it’s really sad that it’s my first college year and I haven’t attended one single face to face class. Anyway, If you have any kind words I would really appreciate it. Love your blog btw <3

Hey! Thank you for this! And I’m very sorry you feel that way...just know you’re not alone, I think we’re all a bit ‘what’s the point’ rn, and for students (and teachers) this period must suck especially hard. I don’t know exactly what can work for you, but here are a few things that come to mind. I hope you can find something useful!

Have habits and routines. Our days are all over the place, which is not good for motivation or mental health. Instead of procrastinating, feeling guilty, working in a hurry and then feeling even worse, decide on a schedule that works for you. Don’t be too hard on yourself - give it as much time as you need to do the work well, and devote the rest of your day to stuff that makes you feel accomplished and serene (maybe learn or practice a non-screen skill, such as cooking or painting?).

And: at risk of sounding like a yoga mom, don’t forget about your body. Very often stuff like bad mood or exhaustion has physical, not mental, causes. Try to make time for sport - dancing in your underwear, running outside, walking the dog, online pilates, a 7-minute app - and, if you can, a few minutes of meditation, singing or breathing exercises every day. I’d recommend the ‘cardiac coherence’ stuff - lasts about 3 minutes, makes you feel really great. And: remember to stretch, smile and drink water throughout the day. If possible, go outside or have plants and flowers around you.

When it comes to habit, try to understand what kind of person you are and react accordingly. Some people work best when they change cold turkey (new day, new me), while for others it’s better to adjust things more slowly (for instance by moving the alarm clock forward five minutes every week or two). If you’re the second type, a method like Pomodoro could work well to organize your work schedule. 

Have pretty things. Try switching to ink or coloured pens, have nice stationery, organize your Word documents so they’re neat and tidy, use candles, plants, ‘good mood’ incense - whatever makes you feel your work has meaning and worth.

Try background music. Some people work better with noise, and you can find all kind of noises online, from stations to coffee shops to purring cats. Others like classical music. For me, what works is video game music, which is designed to keep you alert and focused while being unobtrusive.

Try to keep your workspace as similar as possible to a ‘real’ workspace. No stack of dirty mugs and plates, no abandoned pajama bottoms. If you can manage it, start your day as if you were actually going outside - dress for actual human company, put on make-up if you like to - and remember to prepare your desk the night before: textbooks, charged laptop, notebooks, water bottle, possibly a diary or a motivational quote or anything you find useful.

If it helps, study with friends or classmates. Have video meetings, chats or shared Google docs and work together. Rant with people who’re going through the same thing, but also find a way to help one another. If you live with flatmates or family members, maybe you can find a moment to work together on your separate things? Dad does admin, mom prepares a work presentation, you do your homework and that’s ‘work time’ for everyone?

Divide your tasks. Make clear lists of what you have to do - as detailed as possible (not: shakespeare essay, but: 1. read book, 2. write essay, 2b. introduction and so on) and pay attention to when the stuff is due, either writing it down in agendas or post-its or creating alerts on your phone. Some people also like the square of doom (you know, that ‘important + urgent’, ‘important + non urgent’ thingy).  

Keep track of what you’re doing if you find it helps you. There are good apps for this, or you can use a nice journal or an Excel sheet. Track whatever you want - minutes of study, words learned, tasks accomplished...a favourite of mine is ‘a time logger’, which can track your entire day. When I was in uni, it made me realize I was working a lot more than I thought, and reaching daily goals kept me motivated.

Rethink your internet consumption, especially news, TV shows and social media. Try having periods where you go off-screen whenever you need a break. Stuff like, ‘no TV before 6 pm’ or ‘no tumblr on weekdays’ can automatically make you a lot less stressed and a lot more productive. 

You can also decide to modify the way you engage with these things. For instance, if your studies involve a language, you could watch only TV shows in [language], or turn on [language] subtitles, or you could switch to Buzzfeed [country]. If you like IG, pinterest or tumblr, try having a separate ‘weekday’ account which is about healthy escapism and/or accountability: landscapes and poetry instead of fandom content, or a personal blog about your day - use the right tags and connect with others who’re going through the same thing.    

Imagine you’re teaching someone. I’m guessing you’re passionate about your subject, so turn your study sessions into imaginary conversations. Teaching a lesson (or making a speech) is often the best way to see what you understand, what you need to work on, and what you’re interested in learning more about.

Websites like b-ok can help you find books about your subject (or not) - possibly stuff you’re not actually compelled to read, but which sounds interesting nonetheless. Broaden your horizon, discover different stuff, and sooner or later you’ll find yourself making connections between the exciting stuff you’re basically reading for fun and the actual subject you’re studying.

And: remember why you’re studying this. What are you passionate about? Why did you fall in love with your subject? Why are you studying it? Sometimes we have to endure a few boring classes to get to the good part, and that’s okay.

And finally: visualize the future. The world will get better, and at some point you’ll be glad you’ve spent a few (or many) hard and boring hours getting your degree. What are you going to do after this? Make a ‘future’ board, write a fake Wikipedia article about yourself, give a Nobel or graduation speech, give a pep talk to your (imaginary) future children about the hardships you faced on Zoom and how you overcame them to become the mom they know and love. Whatever works, no matter how ridiculous or narcissistic or far-fetched is a good thing!

I hope this helps! Remember to remain calm and positive, and talk to yourself as if you were talking to a child or a best friend. Less You suck and the world is going to end and more Yes, you didn’t do great today, but we can always do better tomorrow, it’s okay to have an off day! Uni is hard enough under any circumstances, and right now...do your best and resist the bait of dark thoughts: we will get through this, and everything will be alright. It’s how it works.

#ask #studying #students problems #life tips #life advice #motivation #anxiety #mental help #singing about the dark times #you can do this <3

[mountainpoem]

Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman

1 Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road, Healthy, free, the world before me, The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune, Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road. The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them. (Still here I carry my old delicious burdens, I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go, I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them, I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.) 2 You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here, I believe that much unseen is also here. Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial, The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied; The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics, The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple, The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town, They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted, None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me. 3 You air that serves me with breath to speak! You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape! You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers! You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides! I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me. You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges! You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships! You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs! You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards! You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much! You doors and ascending steps! you arches! You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings! From all that has touch’d you I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me, From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me. 4 The earth expanding right hand and left hand, The picture alive, every part in its best light, The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted, The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road. O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me? Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost? Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me? O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you, You express me better than I can express myself, You shall be more to me than my poem. I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all free poems also, I think I could stop here myself and do miracles, I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me, I think whoever I see must be happy. 5 From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, Going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently,but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me. I inhale great draughts of space, The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine. I am larger, better than I thought, I did not know I held so much goodness. All seems beautiful to me, I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me I would do the same to you, I will recruit for myself and you as I go, I will scatter myself among men and women as I go, I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them, Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me, Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me. 6 Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me, Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d it would not astonish me. Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons, It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth. Here a great personal deed has room, (Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men, Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all authority and all argument against it.) Here is the test of wisdom, Wisdom is not finally tested in schools, Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof, Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content, Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things; Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul. Now I re-examine philosophies and religions, They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents. Here is realization, Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him, The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them. Only the kernel of every object nourishes; Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me? Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me? Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion’d, it is apropos; Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers? Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls? 7 Here is the efflux of the soul, The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions, These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they? Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood? Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank? Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? (I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always drop fruit as I pass;) What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers? What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side? What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by and pause? What gives me to be free to a woman’s and man’s good-will? what gives them to be free to mine? 8 The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness, I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times, Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged. Here rises the fluid and attaching character, The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman, (The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.) Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old, From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments, Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact. 9 Allons! whoever you are come travel with me! Traveling with me you find what never tires. The earth never tires, The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first, Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d, I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell. Allons! we must not stop here, However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling we cannot remain here, However shelter’d this port and however calm these waters we must not anchor here, However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted to receive it but a little while. 10 Allons! the inducements shall be greater, We will sail pathless and wild seas, We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail. Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements, Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity; Allons! from all formules! From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests. The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer. Allons! yet take warning! He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance, None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health, Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself, Only those may come who come in sweet and determin’d bodies, No diseas’d person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here. (I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes, We convince by our presence.) 11 Listen! I will be honest with you, I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes, These are the days that must happen to you: You shall not heap up what is call’d riches, You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve, You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d, you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart, You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you, What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting, You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you. 12 Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them! They too are on the road—they are the swift and majestic men—they are the greatest women, Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas, Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land, Habituès of many distant countries, habituès of far-distant dwellings, Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers, Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore, Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children, Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins, Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious years each emerging from that which preceded it, Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases, Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days, Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood, Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content, Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood, Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe, Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death. 13 Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless, To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights, To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to, Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys, To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it, To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it, To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you, however long but it stretches and waits for you, To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither, To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one particle of it, To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens, To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through, To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go, To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them, to gather the love out of their hearts, To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you, To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls. All parts away for the progress of souls, All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe. Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance. Forever alive, forever forward, Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied, Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men, They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go, But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great. Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth! You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you. Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen! It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it. Behold through you as bad as the rest, Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people, Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces, Behold a secret silent loathing and despair. No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession, Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes, Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors, In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly, Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom, everywhere, Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones, Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers, Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself, Speaking of any thing else but never of itself. 14 Allons! through struggles and wars! The goal that was named cannot be countermanded. Have the past struggles succeeded? What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature? Now understand me well—it is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary. My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion, He going with me must go well arm’d, He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions. 15 Allons! the road is before us! It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not detain’d! Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d! Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d! Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher! Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law. Camerado, I give you my hand! I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

#song of the open road #walt whitman #poem #poetry #travel #freedom #free #love #beauty #go

[leverageurassets]

Nature's gifts are waiting to be unwrapped, and with each sunrise, a new chapter begins. 🌄 Hey there, you! 🌟 It's me Lev, your petite redhead companion, dancing gracefully through life and inviting you to join me on a luxurious adventure to rediscover the joy of living. As we stand together, gazing up at the majestic Sierra Nevada mountains in Yosemite National Park, the world seems to pause, allowing us to savor the moment and breathe in the rejuvenating essence of nature. 🌿 With a heart full of adventure and a spirit that's both playful and heartfelt, I'm here to be your guide through the wonders of life. From ballet to Pilates, I've embraced movement as a way to embrace the strength that lies within, and now, I'm excited to share that energy with you. 💃 This journey isn't just about the breathtaking landscapes and luxurious getaways; it's about realizing dreams, both yours and mine. So, come along as we explore new horizons, engage in imaginary roleplays that ignite our creativity, and create custom content that brings your fantasies to life. 🎭🎥 Let's leverage your assets – not just the tangible ones, but the intangible qualities that make you unique. Together, we'll craft long-form videos that weave stories of passion, joy, and excitement, capturing moments that'll linger in your heart forever. ❤️ Now, I know you're a true gentleman, and you appreciate the finer things in life. Our creations will be designed to pamper your senses and fulfill your desires. 🎩 I encourage you to like this post and invite others to join us on this thrilling journey. 🌟 Tell me, dear adventurer, what's your ultimate dream destination? Is it a secluded island hideaway, a bustling city full of lights, or perhaps a serene mountain retreat? Share your thoughts in the comments below, and let's create a conversation filled with wanderlust. Together, we'll make each moment count and embrace the beauty of our shared humanity. So, take my hand, and let's embark on this grand adventure together. There's a world of excitement waiting for us just beyond the horizon. 🚀 Are you ready to seize it? — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/5VR3bz2

#Instagram #IFTTT