Pug Love by Retrowhale
We Are Creating The Future by Pope St Victor
Let’s do Lunch by Sammy Slabbinck
Danz Trio by Marco Puccini
Aesthinia by Alejandra Giraldo
Pug Love by Retrowhale
We Are Creating The Future by Pope St Victor
Let’s do Lunch by Sammy Slabbinck
Danz Trio by Marco Puccini
Aesthinia by Alejandra Giraldo
I don’t know
if I am looking in
or looking out
of
that window in the middle of the sunset
but sometimes
my ears melt
into my teeth
and I am content
to be a thing
swimming
inandout
of
Oblivion
“Halfway to Heaven” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: “Fight or Fright” by Dessi Terzieva
in the corner,
where the top lip turns into the bottom lip,
is a fine crease
that reveals the laughter
and devastation
of life already lived–
it is not red and tough
like the scar of a healed incision,
but gentle and strange–
and sometimes concealed
by
flattering lighting.
And although it is elusive
it is there to stay–
a faint reminder of the years
resting in lost
memories.
“A Wrinkle in Time” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: Valbona by Dessie Terzeiva
I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Europe and Africa […]
I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
– Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
———————————————————————
At 24, I related to Sylvia so much that it frightened me. ( If you’re not familiar, her story doesn’t end well). I felt her words in my bones. The fear of death without growth, the heaviness of responsibility, the inclinations to find life both meaningless and meaningful… I saw myself becoming her: A lonely, deflated, narcissist sipping on an agonizing cocktail of self-loathing and superiority. I think maybe that is what drove me to start making decisions in my own life.
What I understand now is that the right decisions are only right because you’ve made them. Whether you decide to be a missionary in Africa, or a pinterest-obsessed house-wife, you will be OK. The problems arise when your mortality weighs on you so heavily, that you neglect to make any decision at all. Maybe if I don’t choose, life will stop moving and I can just stop dying. But it won’t, because no one get’s out of this world alive, and if you don’t make your own decisions, Time will make them for you.
Don’t get me wrong. I can’t order at a McDonald’s without calling 12 friends for advice first, but I am much more capable of dealing with the big stuff in my life now that I realize I will die, and I have to make my peace with not having enough time to do ALL THE THINGS! Decisions-real decisions– require sacrifice and commitment. So, there is no moving forward without accepting the death of those lives that will never belong to you.
Here’s to breaking out of Limbo
– Angie
Artwork by Heinz Aimer
http://society6.com/artist/HeinzAimer
Caryn Drexl
http://www.etsy.com/shop/caryndrexl?ref=seller_info
Abbey Watkins
http://www.etsy.com/shop/abbeywatkins#
Rafal Rola
Ming Adigm
Behind those nostrils
-those eyebrows-
-those tongues-
are
swirling clouds of nothing
weighing down the wings that
free
troubled minds
“You’ll never Fly” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork by Johnny Greenwood
ANGIE: Can you pinpoint where your social anxiety comes from.. if there is such a place?
MITCH: my social anxiety comes from me feeling like a freak.
ANGIE: That sounds simple enough. but it isn’t. at all.
MITCH: I see other people. normal people. couples in the mall, people walking along smiling. I see the disconnect between them and myself. I realize how impossibly hard it is for me to simply feel happy and I spiral.
ANGIE: hmm.. I just assume that everyone is secretly anxious and depressed and in denial about it. Is that worse?
MITCH: everyone has issues… doesn’t mean that people need to walk around looking blissful… fucking assholes
ANGIE: how do you feel about taking medication ?
MITCH: i have no issues with my medication when I am on it. When I am on the pills I can function… I’m not always happy but happiness is an option.
ANGIE: Do you go to therapy too?
MITCH: Therapy… is like a D&D group. It works great if you get a connection with the people involved… if there is no chemistry then it’s awkward and forced.
ANGIE: I have only ever had old jewish therapists who ask me about my mother incessantly. then I stop going to them.
ANGIE: I try so hard to understand everyone that I can’t even feel when I’m angry anymore.
MITCH: anger is addictive! chemically in your brain. even though it’s a negative emotion it feels good to act on it although you generally feel bad afterwards because you are coming down from a high… so hurting people due to anger…. there is a reason and people… hate groups, bigots… they are junkies. i know it seems weird but… it relieves me… these people have become addicted to hate and they keep returning to it because it makes them feel good and not because they necessarily believe it… it makes the world a little less bleak and a bit more rational in my eyes
ANGIE: That makes me feel more like a person.
MITCH: it is something that helps me… when I am getting angry constantly at a group… or when I see others(especially politcal) constantly digging at each other… I can understand it more because i understand them better… it’s not about hate it’s about lack of self control and an attempt to make yourself feel better…. and I think we all understand that.
Before we became
pink
and mean,
We ran through freshly sprinkled yards
on summer nights–
and teased the misty breeze –
as
our sunburned noses caught the familiar scent
of wet concrete.
But in the holes ahead
were burnished, brassy pupils
warning of degradation
and pain.
Warning of the end
and the beginning
of us.
“Before 13” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork by Daria Hlazatova