She never learns. She just never learns.
Ellen Von Unwerth photography
Month: July 2011
Kind of singularly sapphic.
“Most people just fell in line like obedient little children, doing exactly what society expected of them at any given moment, all the while pretending that they’d actually made some sort of choice." – Tom Perrotta, Little Children.
Yes, darling, it’s going to get so much worse before it gets any better. Provided you have some patience and the sensibility to refrain from dripping onto the furniture.
Oh babe.
Confession: I sent a certain tumblr girlfriend of mine a photograph of myself of a certain variety. And I’m still kind of giggly over it. This may be the start of some sort of exhibitionism kick. Maybe.
“Dear Diary: Heather told me she teaches people "real life.” She said, real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly. I said, so, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly? She said, yes. I said, you’re beautiful.“ From the film Heathers.
The message of double-standards dictated by this scene in this amazing movie aside, it definitely should on whatever file you’ve got on me.
My Simian Mobile Disco phase coincided with me coming to terms with my sexuality. So, naturally, when I found this video, my theories were confirmed. (Not to mention I totally set to plotting how to get this to happen.) And, while I’m totally nostalgic, I can only imagine the sleazy conversation, probably over some pizza and beer, that went on when they were writing the treatment.
“So, okay, it’s a bunch of girls at a party. And they’re sitting in a circle and they are playing telephone. And then…they all just start makin’ out, man.”
Which is fine by me, but apparently this is the UK version. The US version has a bunch of models on pedestals eating junk food and luxury items and then vomiting until their faces get all disfigured. Social commentary aside, why the hell did my country pass up girls making out at a party for a really creepy video with ralphing models?
Oh, America. You don’t make a lick of sense.
(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
There’s something kind of sweet about that extended, waiting tongue. And how both of their eyes are closed. And how he’s holding her head. Judging by the source, the scene’s probably rougher when set into motion. But, in my mind, it’s just plain tender.
It’s his. And you can’t see it.
It doesn’t matter that she wishes you could. Or that she’s hoping he’ll spread his middle and ring fingers, opening her lips to you as an invitation. Or that she’s been looking at you with that same coy smile all day, letting thoughts of you taking that which he has hidden from you tumble around her mind.
You wonder if she’s wet under that hand. Part of you already knows the answer to that. You wonder what she tastes like. That you don’t know the answer to. He won’t grant you the privilege of that knowledge.
She’s surrendered herself to him this way out of her own free will. He chooses who sees her, who touches her, who tastes her, who fucks her. And he chooses who she gets to see, touch, taste and fuck. Judging by the hand going over her eyes, he can tell what you’re doing with her mind. And you can tell that you’ve clearly overstayed your welcome in there.