Exister, pour nous, c’est sentir.
22. Tulsa, Ok. Queer Femme. Lover of art and novels.

Currently Reading: The Goldfinch

“That secret was a hole in the middle of me that every happy thing fell into.”
— Jonathan Safran Foer

I once told a joke about a straight person.
They came after me in droves.
Each one singing the same:
Don’t fight fire with fire.


What they mean is: Don’t fight fire with anything.
Do not fight fire with water.
Do not fight fire with foam.
Do not evacuate the people.
Do not sound the alarms.
Do not crawl coughing and choking and spluttering to safety.
Do not barricade the door with damp towels.
Do not wave a white flag out of the window.
Do not take the plunge from several storeys up.
Do not shed a tear for your lover trapped behind a wall of flame.
Do not curse the combination of fuel, heat, and oxygen.
Do not ask why the fire fighters are not coming.


When they say: Don’t fight fire with fire.
What they mean is: Stand and burn.
Stand and Burn by Claudia Boleyn.  (via claudiaboleyn)

(via thinkfemme)


Been going through my old work recently, here’s a painting I never posted. Acrylic on panel, 10x10 of Mckenna. 


You don’t call real women manic pixie dreamgirls. you don’t bitingly reference Gillian Flynn’s “cool girl" when describing a woman. You don’t accuse women (especially lesbian and bi women) of the male gaze.

These are all aspects of how men see women: one-note, simplistic and fantasies. You don’t blame women for how men gaze at them. You don’t blame women for being reduced by men. 

(via caaesura)

People are just as wonderful as sunsets if you let them be. When I look at a sunset, I don’t find myself saying, “Soften the orange a bit on the right hand corner.” I don’t try to control a sunset. I watch with awe as it unfolds.
— Carl R. Rogers (via teenager90s)

(via saltwaterhours)


hey sorry im late i didnt want to come

(via wandyrafaela)

There are a few things in life so beautiful they hurt: swimming in the ocean while it rains, reading alone in empty libraries, the sea of stars that appear when you’re miles away from the neon lights of the city, bars after 2am, walking in the wilderness, all the phases of the moon, the things we do not know about the universe, and you.
— Beau Taplin || and you.  (via idratherbehome)

(Source: afadthatlastsforever, via brat-in-training)



Paul Klee (Swiss:1879-1940), Clown, 1940. Watercolor, oil, pastel and red chalk on paper on cardboard, 29.7 x 20.3 cm.

more Paul Klee …. more art on my blog

Deep blue sea - 48”x60” oil on canvas

Amanda ValdezDeep Darkness, 2014

You are not to touch yourself
in any way
or be familiar with ecstasy.
You are not to touch
anyone of your own sex
or outside of your race
then talk about it,
photograph it, write it down
in explicit details, or paint it
red, orange, blue, or dance
in honor of its power, dance
for its beauty, dance
because it’s yours.

You are not to touch other flesh
without a police permit.
You have no privacy -
the State wants to seize your bed
and sleep with you.
The State wants to control
your sexuality, your birth rate,
your passion.
The message is clear:
your penis, your vagina,
your testicles, your womb,
your anus, your orgasm,
these belong to the State.

You are not to touch yourself
or be familiar with ecstasy.
The erogenous zones
are not demilitarized.

— essex hemphill, the occupied territories.  (via ethiopienne)

(Source: black-poetry, via queerandpresentdanger)