What we are today comes from our thoughts of yesterday, and our present thoughts build our life of tomorrow: Our life is the creation of our mind.
Monday, 14th July

Thanks Paulfc for this tip -neat episode! Had no idea mountain biking started out on cruisers- it’s kinda hilarious.

I want to go bike in Marin really badly. I’m getting increasingly obsessed with cycling, and I’m not much of an athlete or anything, it just makes me happy.

Electric designs

'I don't have much to say
about why I spend my day
the way that I spend my day.
It’s just what I’m doing.’

I love this sound

A few of my favorite things: bikes, horses, trails and good company #montrosebikeshop #cyclocross

A few of my favorite things: bikes, horses, trails and good company #montrosebikeshop #cyclocross

#acamp reflections. Feels like it was ‘but a dream’. And I want to aspire to unicornism, a unicornist state of being, unicornify, etc etc. #stupidnighthoughts

#acamp reflections. Feels like it was ‘but a dream’. And I want to aspire to unicornism, a unicornist state of being, unicornify, etc etc. #stupidnighthoughts


Stockholm, Sweden by Swedish National Heritage Board on Flickr.

I think this is a masterpiece


Stockholm, Sweden by Swedish National Heritage Board on Flickr.

I think this is a masterpiece

Friday, 27th June


Sofia Leitão
Mirror, steal pins, sequins and foam2011

Mineral Muse Art is rad



Sofia Leitão

Mirror, steal pins, sequins and foam

Mineral Muse Art is rad

Saturday, 21st June

Photos of us being epic at A-camp 5.0

[pics by Allison and Marilee]

Monday, 16th June

“Gelsomina was and is an ‘active’ character. A character who never gives up, who is attached to life with both hands and feet, and who is engaged in difficult relationships that she does not succeed in resolving… Gelsomina obstinately and stubbornly wants to construct around herself the conditions for a simple and affectionate life without solitude… she feels the need to speak with everything and everyone; she senses the lives of the trees, of the sky, of the wind.
Yet all of this is more a lump in the throat than anything else, merely the dream of a harmonious life. On all this weighs Zampanó’s silence, which is her only human presence during her days of grief and who encloses within himself all the desolate distance that often exists between one human and and another. Being together in life and not realizing it, looking at eachother as strangers, having an enormous need for sympathy and companionship,  and not knowing where to start- and the weight of those silences, the tentative trials which end clumsily and which are transformed into hatred and rancor.”
-Giulietta Masina

Wednesday, 11th June

from my heart to your ears

Andrea Gibson - Royal Heart

I intend to leave this life
so shattered
there’s gonna have to be
a thousand separate heavens
for all of my separate parts

(Source: searchingfororion, via cockeyednincompoopery)

Friday, 30th May


"The Nutritionist" — Andrea Gibson

The nutritionist said I should eat root vegetables. 
Said if I could get down thirteen turnips a day 
I would be grounded, rooted. 
Said my head would not keep flying away 
to where the darkness lives. 

The psychic told me my heart carries too much weight. 
Said for twenty dollars she’d tell me what to do. 
I handed her the twenty. She said, “Stop worrying, darling. 
You will find a good man soon.” 

The first psycho therapist told me to spend 
three hours each day sitting in a dark closet 
with my eyes closed and ears plugged. 
I tried it once but couldn’t stop thinking 
about how gay it was to be sitting in the closet. 

The yogi told me to stretch everything but the truth. 
Said to focus on the out breath. Said everyone finds happiness 
when they care more about what they give 
than what they get. 

The pharmacist said, “Lexapro, Lamicatl, Lithium, Xanax.” 

The doctor said an anti-psychotic might help me 
forget what the trauma said. 

The trauma said, “Don’t write this poem. 
Nobody wants to hear you cry 
about the grief inside your bones.” 

But my bones said, “Tyler Clementi dove
into the Hudson River convinced 
he was entirely alone.” 

My bones said, “Write the poem.” 

The lamplight. Considering the river bed. 
To the chandelier of your fate hanging by a thread.
To everyday you could not get out of bed.
To the bulls eye of your wrist
To anyone who has ever wanted to die.

I have been told, sometimes, the most healing thing to do-
Is remind ourselves over and over and over:
“Other people feel this too.”

The tomorrow that is coming, gone
And it has not gotten better
When you are half finished writing that letter 
to your mother that says “I swear to God I tried
But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back”
There is no bruise like the bruise of loneliness kicks into the spine

So let me tell you I know there are days 
it looks like the whole world is dancing in the streets 
when you break down like the doors of the looted buildings

You are not alone 
and wondering who will be convicted of the crime 
of insisting you keep loading your grief into the chamber of your shame

You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy
I have never met a heavy heart 
that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside

Some people will never understand 
the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside
Some days I know my smile looks like the gutter of a falling house

But my hands are always holding tight to the ripchord of believing
A life can be rich like the soil
Can make food of decay
Can turn wound into highway
Pick me up in a truck with that bumper sticker that says 
“It is no measure of good health to be well adjusted to a sick society.”

I have never trusted anyone 
with the pulled back bow of my spine 
the way I trusted ones who come undone at the throat
Screaming for their pulses to find the fight to pound

Four nights before Tyler Clementi jumped from the George Washington Bridge 
I was sitting in a hotel room in my own town
Calculating exactly what I had to swallow 
to keep a bottle of sleeping pills down

What I know about living is the pain is never just ours
Every time I hurt I know the wound is an echo
So I keep a listening to the moment the grief becomes a window
When I can see what I couldn’t see before,
through the glass of my most battered dream

I watched a dandelion lose its mind in the wind
and when it did, it scattered a thousand seeds.

So the next time I tell you how easily I come out of my skin, 
don’t try to put me back in,
just say “Here we are together at the window aching for it to all get better
but knowing as bad as it hurts our hearts, made of only just skin, 
knowing there is a chance the worst day might still be coming —
let me say right now for the record, I’m still gonna be here
asking this world to dance, even if it keeps stepping on my holy feet
you — you stay here with me, okay?
You stay here with me.
Raising your bright against the bitter dark
Your bright longing
Your brilliant fists of loss”

Friends, if the only thing we have to gain in staying is each other,

my God that’s plenty
my God that’s enough
my God that is so so much for the light to give

each of us at each other’s backs whispering over and over and over




(thank you Emm in Sem for supplying the lyrics)

Tuesday, 13th May


(Source: equestrian.ru, via myequinedlife)

Saturday, 10th May