Can't Be Fucked

I'm BJ, live in Tasmania, and would like to be napping. I like things, particularly hugs.
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vytashuth: “ You and me, we never had enough time to do all the nothing we want. September, 2017. ”

vytashuth:

You and me, we never had enough time to do all the nothing we want.

September, 2017.

(via trsmith46)

jonahryan:

I hate that social media has commodified performative grief and outrage to the point that every fucking person thinks that every tragedy that happens needs to be addressed by them, personally. I hate that there’s an expectation that everyone make some grand statement and that if you don’t do it, you must be heartless or hate the victims. We’re not all celebrities or politicians. Not every voice needs to be heard at all times. The world probably doesn’t NEED anyone’s take if it doesn’t contain new information. Processing things silently isn’t bad and it doesn’t make anyone a bad person and I honestly much prefer it to a lot of the self-serving bullshit you see when something awful happens in the world.

I fall into that trap. Most people do. It’s shit and it produces a lot of shit sentiment. “WHY AREN’T PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THIS?!” is my least favorite sentence in the world right now. Most people, when it comes to tragedy, have nothing to say. Most uninvolved people, in these circumstances, should say less.

(via ironswordandstarshield)

The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.

—Italo Calvino, from Invisible Cities (Harcourt Brace & Company, 1974)