Did I help when I was kissing you?

i don’t get how I’ve been exercising consistently for like 10 years and i never get any skinnier…? like there hasn’t been a time for more than 2 months where i haven’t exercised at all and its usually more like 2-4 days a week. AND YET I AM I STILL ALWAYS CHUBBY???


I remember one evening, in the pouring rain
And in my heart was an aching pain
Well fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

So show us a bird flying high above
Life ain’t worth living without the one you love
Well fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well

Carla Klein, oil on canvas


whenever i get with a guy they ALWAYS comment/compliment my body and are sort of surprised and i think it’s because they’re so used to thinking that they’re supposed to get with skinny girls and they’ve been taught SO much that skinny bodies are better and then they’re with me and they see that chubby girls have beautiful bodies that are soft and nice and everything and then they’re like wow you have a great body and i’m just like yeah, i know, you’re welcome for educating you.

"When I smelled green through the blur
where its wings were, felt
the whir of their arc, heard the red
of its ruby throat-scales, tasted the dart of its forked tongue
afloat in the foxglove—my only desire was
to tell you.

My weed-work stopped. Hands
in earth, I knelt by the garden wall,
and suddenly that world seemed remote.

I called to you, aloud, and the words I spoke
were rote, broken, each one an arbitrary token
of the tiny bird that came to kiss the flowers.

It was then I knew my exile’s full extent.
The phenomenon of pungent sound is brighter—
sheer iridescent now there then—
than the hours of thought without flesh. Once, to be
at one meant to act, so I have tried to make this
matter."

— Joshua McKinney, “Hum”

Arion Kudasz, Japan

Arion Kudasz, Japan

"On the other hand the 1941 growth was long in all pines; perhaps they saw the shadow of things to come, and made a special effort to show the world that pines still know where they are going, even though men do not."

— Aldo Leopold, Sand County Almanac

Arion Kudasz, Tourists in Environment
"Why do people gather in a particular place, and how do they preserve their individuality? What kind of people are they anyway? What is the purpose they unite for – if it is unity, and not chance mixing? Are they happier together? Does their union not make them ludicrous in the eyes of the outside observer? Do the participants of a mass event need the justification provided by their number to feel good, as if it were a proof of a good choice: since others are also present, this must be the right place at the right time?"

"How long since you last gazed into a face
this beautiful, since a face this beautiful
opened its gaze for you? A full moon couldn’t
loom any larger, rising late and low
in hazy autumn, couldn’t fill any
lake or pool more full than your eye is full,
holy water rising in the holy well.

You can’t follow a third of what he’s saying,
his lips moving slow, then fast, then slow, tilting
his face from seduction into friendliness
and back again, the words flying fast, birds
surprised from hedges, the lashes raising
and lowering their heavy wings, the hair
a dense cloud stroking and unravelling

over the hill’s brow, the shirt washed to a
pale soft heft. Behind him in the pub, two
pipers, one’s lean head shaved down to a shadow,
self-absorbed, arrogantly serious;
one curly-haired, wind-blown, gregarious
and gap-toothed. This one’s different, looks at you,
at you only, your search-light. Is there danger?

There’s always danger. The pipers pack their
sticks and bags, the guitarists click shut the doors
of their cases, the fiddlers raise their bows
precisely together, the lights go up
without your seeing. So this is what they once
called glamour: leave him so much as a ribbon,
your world can age without you. Water rising in the well."

— Nathalie Anderson, “Féis”

Winslow Homer, Long Branch, New Jersey (1869)

Winslow HomerLong Branch, New Jersey (1869)