Anaïs Nin, The Diary Of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

absolutely heart broken over the fact that i can’t and will never be able to date half the man that mr darcy is

Jane Austen: *creates Mr Darcy, Mr Knightley, Captain Wentworth and Mr Tilney*

Me:

christian dior ss 1996

you can start anytime.

you can brush your teeth in the middle of the day. you can wash the dishes at 2am. you can do things outside the normal times assigned by society.

kind of shit at backgrounds, so i tried to practice.😭😭😭 anyways, dune video game concept

Little collab I did a while ago 🩷💚

saying “i want him” about the character but not in a romantic or sexual way . i just Require him i need to Obtain him

Brian Wilson went to bed for three years. Jean-Michel Basquiat would spend all day in bed. Monica Ali, Charles Bukowski, Marcel Proust, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Tracey Emin, Emily Dickinson, Edith Sitwell, Frida Kahlo, William Wordsworth, René Descartes, Mark Twain, Henri Matisse, Kathy Acker, Derek Jarman and Patti Smith all worked or work from bed and they’re productive people. (Am I protesting too much?) Humans take to their beds for all sorts of reasons: because they’re overwhelmed by life, need to rest, think, recover from illness and trauma, because they’re cold, lonely, scared, depressed – sometimes I lie in bed for weeks with a puddle of depression in my sternum – to work, even to protest (Emily Dickinson, John and Yoko). Polar bears spend six months of the year sleeping, dormice too. Half their lives are spent asleep, no one calls them lazy. There’s a region in the South of France, near the Alps, where whole villages used to sleep through the seven months of winter – I might be descended from them. And in 1900, it was recorded that peasants from Pskov in northwest Russia would fall into a deep winter sleep called lotska for half the year: ‘for six whole months out of the twelve to be in the state of Nirvana longed for by Eastern sages, free from the stress of life, from the need to labour, from the multitudinous burdens, anxieties, and vexations of existence’.

— Viv Albertine, To Throw Away Unopened.