My chandelier petaline was just born.
My chandelier petaline is a mass of undifferentiated cells. each one contains the whole of reality, glittering, pressurized, gift-wrapped, deformed, plunging, inane—
My chandelier petaline has no sensory organs.
My chandelier petaline has an infinity body and a finity soul… (CLICK HERE TO KEEP READING NOW…)

Hello gorgeous. Are you interested? Complete this introductory module and get to know my chandelier petaline on my first substack post live ! In YOUR inbox if you already subscribed! Read-able now! Interactive ! Filled with links, facts, footnotes, digressions, and images ! <3<3<3<#3<3

Hey did anyone else notice that the Princess Bride is an extended kidnapping/torture/other/princess roleplay scene written casted and directed for the butchfemme gaze?

every time i watch a movie thats good im like omg i have to change my personality now because this is my new favourite movie of all time

realchickenmanny asked:

favorite word?

i can’t pick favourites it’s not fair to everyone else. but lately i have been by captivated by the vocabulary invented for the (biblical in my opinion) task of objectively describing and categorizing rocks … there’s slate, phyllite, schist, blueschist, gneiss….Mudrock protolith…Carbonaceous sediment…Slaty cleavage; crenulations.. phenocrysts… Luster, lustrousness, something hard, something secreted, something leaving behind a streak of surprising color. Garnets squeezed out of grey matrices, micas sweated out with the exertion of transformation… im soooo here . Im in here im looking at a rock and Im wanting so badly to know it that I take it to the geology textbook and select an abstraction for it like as suit tailored to it as well as I can and I realize how much more time I want to spend looking at rocks now that I am beginning to learn their names, even as I realize that it is only the names giving the objects their objectivity, and that it might be easier to experience the strangeness of the world if I could forget its names, but I won’t forget its names, because then I wouldn’t be able to talk about it and it gets boring not being able to talk about it, and if it gets boring, then you might stop paying attention..its a paradox. There is a rock called reticulite that looks like iridescent foam. Exactly like a lump of glittering rainbow foam scooped out of a bubble bath post-bath bomb, but it comes out of volcanoes, specifically, it is only formed from lava fountains whose basaltic spew pierces the clouds like high castles – at least 1000 feet high is the number often given, the height necessary to reach the speeds necessary to suddenly exsolve gases in the basalt, as if the air in its lungs exploded outwards and rendered a solid thing nothing but a lattice of itself. It is the lightest rock in the world, much lighter than pumice but it doesn’t float. It defies the idea of solidity, you can hold it in your hand (although it crumbles into a smaller version of itself whenever it is touched) but water pours right through it and it sinks like a fishing net would sink. Then it dissolves like cotton candy. Its a beautiful gold color, a gold latticework, a thought bubble ejected from the inside of the earth..But you can’t let yourself believe any of this. Anything I say might not be true because this is about the words, although most of this is true, but I think its better to react with disbelief. That’s my recommendation

Also I love, lately, words related to castles and bacterial colonies of luxury and the associated equally extravagant acts of self-protection or self-comfort: Crenellations and machicolations and spirals and balustrades and pediments and cruciforms and chandeliers and lacework and swagging and frosting

early paleozoic eras: cambrian, ordovician, silurian, devonian. But not the american state or dinoasaur themed ones except under special consideration

Sweeteners: sugar, gel, gels, jelly, creams, paste, solvents

And this is the set of all the other words that I love that I didn’t name here represented by the heart symbol: <3

If I was the princess from the princess and the pea I would be so happy to be a princess sleeping on so many mattresses and I wouldn’t even complain about the pea

i’m would love to make a sculpture of the princess and the pea but it’s 100 miniature models of princesses where the first 47 are actually us presidents layered in between a stack of 100 mattresses like cake batter and after the second version of trump (if any president served a second term there’s a second identical version of them representing the term) then in the layers it will be just a princess vaguely resembling aurora from the sleeping beauty over and over again crushed between each successive mattress layer and they are all sleeping very peacefully. And the mattresses are on a spinning disk that is attached to an open music box that’s slowly rotates the whole thing and plays a relaxing and soothing and familiar melody maybe clair de lune

2025

1. you are allowed to have a moment to think before you speak
2. terrifying sincerity will demand from you the kind of composure and character you are seeking
3. practice asking yourself questions and answer them without seeking references or resources or answers that others gave
4. the difference between ritual and routine is faith, and the kind of faith you need to give to your habits—what they each mean to you— is something to be curious, reflective, intentional about. you are afraid that habits will sap your life of meaning, so give them meaning of their own
5. Lila (divine play)
6. novelty & magic are rivers, not reservoirs

9 selfies of 2024 <3 this year my hair was orange & blue & silver & green & abandoned & my face was always covered in cherry blossoms & lilacs ^|^

The next litter of Lazaruses regards itself

Your jilted liver My broken antenna Our imaginary red mouths & their

imaginary white envelopes A celestial event displaying symptoms of Autoimmune hepatitis

When a meteor hits me in the face, it leaves a swollen mark

inoculating a hickey with a baby leech that grows big and strong

It’s here & it wants its breath back: Its Deviled eggs, diet coke, leavened bread. An angelic origin story is a pearl diver buried alive beneath the tsunami, spending her last momenrs watching the earth shake out all the pearls. When I see her it’s a romantic event. Who put grief before loss? Fess up, fellow faithful & sexually-aligned sisters. Who messed with my shit?! Who came into my house & ate the fruit & left? Touch is a fantastical

occurrence made of cop sirens & skid marks. I have one good lung & one made of rotten yeast that never finished rising, wheezing

through the cheesecloth towel the surgeon left inside me. The bankrupt hospital is an old knot on a pair of elastic waist-tie pants, too tight to relieve. The idea that I am sick is a kiss,

slippery, warm, wanting. You have to be so careful with catheters and comatose men. The next one of us could be in any of their beds.

Running water

Running water

Running water

Running water

Running water

Running water

Running water

Running water

Running water