G BOMB

                    fall into the gap.....    

    

shut up......

summer viewing....

Eric Rohmer's 'Six Moral Tales' 

image via the fox is black

bestie. stylist. designer. photographer. 

camilla combs

'oh hey' from Paris -em

i'm 26...and ready to act my age: less candy, double eye roll to liz's bieber obsession

John William Waterhouse: Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus - 1905

i have an assignment to write an anti-love poem...easy...or is it? by way of example, we were given these shiny gems and I cannot help but share, although I don't feel particularly mad at the world for installing a holiday like this one. i feel they represent the torn angst/confused displaced passion of the everyday just as plainly as they do "anti-love": 

Why Can't I Leave You?

by Ai

You stand behind the old black mare,
dressed as always in that red shirt,
stained from sweat, the crying of the armpits,
that will not stop for anything,
stroking her rump, while the barley goes unplanted.
I pick up my suitcase and set it down,
as I try to leave you again.
I smooth the hair back from your forehead.
I think with your laziness and the drought too,
you’ll be needing my help more than ever.
You take my hands, I nod
and go to the house to unpack,
having found another reason to stay.

I undress, then put on my white lace slip
for you to take off, because you like that
and when you come in, you pull down the straps
and I unbutton your shirt.
I know we can’t give each other any more
or any less than what we have.
There is a safety in that, so much
that I can never get past the packing,
the begging you to please, if I can’t make you happy,
come close between my thighs
and let me laugh for you from my second mouth.

Danse Russe
by William Carlos Williams
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists above shining trees,- if I in my north room dance naked, grotesquely before my mirror waving my shirt round my head and singing softly to myself: "I am lonely, lonely, I was born to be lonely, I am best so!" If I admire my arms, my face, my shoulders, flanks, buttocks against the yellow drawn shades,- Who shall say I am not the happy genius of my household? A Dog After Love  by Yehuda Amichai After you left me I had a bloodhound sniff at my chest and my belly. Let it fill its nostrils and set out to find you. I hope it will find you and rip your lover's balls to shreds and bite off his cock-- or at least bring me one of your stockings between its teeth.  Lovesong by Ted Hughes He loved her and she loved him His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to He had no other appetite She bit him she gnawed him she sucked She wanted him complete inside her Safe and sure forever and ever Their little cries fluttered into the curtains Her eyes wanted nothing to get away Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows He gripped her hard so that life Should not drag her from that moment He wanted all future to cease He wanted to topple with his arms round her Off that moments brink and into nothing Or everlasting or whatever there was Her embrace was an immense press To print him into her bones His smiles were the garrets of a fair palace Where the real world would never come Her smiles were spider bites So he would lie still till she felt hungry His words were occupying armies Her laughs were an assassin's attempts His looks were bullets daggers of revenge Her glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets His whispers were whips and jackboots Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks And their deep cries crawled over the floors Like an animal dragging a great trap His promises were the surgeon's gag Her promises took the top off his skull She would get a brooch made of it His vows pulled out all her sinews He showed her how to make a love-knot Her vows put his eyes in formalin At the back of her secret drawer Their screams stuck in the wall Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs In their dreams their brains took each other hostage In the morning they wore each other's face *respectfully copied and pasted from: poetry365.tumblr.com; www.poets.org; www.poemhunter.com; www.nerve.com

Inspired by Kafka's short story "Investigations of a Dog"

benpopelillustration.blogspot.com

"I need solitude for my writing; not 'like a hermit' - that wouldn't be enough - but like a dead man." 

                                                                - Franz Kafka

gloomglum.... (from sissyjupe)

dear shark speed:


thanks for providing the repetitious beat from band practice, no doubt, that creeps into our house every time....that helped me zonk for 35 min. in the tub... i've not been sleeping well and 35 min.zzzzzzzzz(s) are good zzzzzzzz(s). i'm sure you were just tryna get it right.....psychedelic peace jam. god bless. 


xo

www.calendars.com

this is camilla's attempt at a little spritzer...

to pizza, love cat. thanks for the optimism?

http://www.camillacombs.blogspot.com/

meet alex

he's a cancer.

http://alexshahan.blogspot.com/

if you're feeling sinister

There's nothing like going to a New Year's party and running into an ex...that reports a conversation that he's just had with another another ex...

His parting words: "You're out of your fucking mind...but in the best possible way." What does that even mean?

Word. Happy New Year. 

some self-portraits with a weird border that I don't understand. 

i need techy help.