Wednesday, December 04, 2019

[ ursula k. le guin ]








It was no longer pleasant to exchange glances with the moon. It symbolized neither the Unattainable, as it had for thousands of years, nor the Attained, as it had for a few decades, but the Lost. A stolen coin, the muzzle of one's gun turned against one, a round hole in the fabric of the sky. The aliens held the moon.
















Tuesday, December 03, 2019

gettin' mad and pumpin' iron by The Coathangers







 






 (or I just gotta tell you I'm gonna break your fucking face)