Related Recs

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+++my notesapp poem about london in spring+++

Shades of grey Greys of May stays unchanged Sun don’t ray Graves for lay Lanes obeyed Time don‘t weigh Frosts of May Signs of change Hair goes grey I stop, say Look all day Shades of grey Days of lay I’m okay Even grey Fades away

@d0o0b

Apr 18, 2024

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What Resembles the Grave but Isn’t

Falling into a hole, again and again, each time saying, “This is not my grave. Get out of this hole.” Climbing out, only to stumble into another, muttering, “This too is not my grave. Get out.” Another hole, and then another, holes within holes—cascading, endless. Falling, rising, falling again. Each time insisting, “This is not my grave. Get out of the hole.” Sometimes you’re pushed into the hole, defiant as you climb out, shouting, “You cannot push me into this. It is not my grave.” Other times, you fall unprovoked, tumbling into spaces already carved—rigid, ideological, impersonal voids. Holes whose walls were long dug by others. And sometimes, you fall into holes with others. Together, hands and arms forming ladders, you rise, proclaiming, “This is not our mass grave. Get out.” There are times you willingly fall, choosing the hole because it seems easier than resisting. Only once inside, you realize—this isn’t the grave either. So, you climb, slow and deliberate, discovering that even after this hole, there’s yet another. And another. Some holes linger, holding you captive for days, weeks, years. They may not be graves, but escaping them feels insurmountable. Still, you claw your way out, knowing the horizon holds an endless field of holes. Occasionally, you stop to survey them, yearning for a final, dignified place to rest—a hole of purpose, of completion. Yet even then, you wonder about others who have fallen, who never climbed out. Sometimes, you think, perhaps they found peace in staying. You move forward, torn between avoiding the holes and contemplating their inevitability. Sometimes, you fall with resignation; other times, with a stubborn resolve. But each time, you rise, saying, “Look at the strength, the spirit, with which I rise from what resembles the grave but isn’t.”

@marshall

Feb 24, 2025

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The House Of Belonging - David Whyte

I awoke this morning in the gold light turning this way and that thinking for a moment it was one day like any other. But the veil had gone from my darkened heart and I thought it must have been the quiet candlelight that filled my room, it must have been the first easy rhythm with which I breathed myself to sleep, it must have been the prayer I said speaking to the otherness of the night. And I thought this is the good day you could meet your love, this is the gray day someone close to you could die. This is the day you realize how easily the thread is broken between this world and the next and I found myself sitting up in the quiet pathway of light, the tawny close grained cedar burning round me like fire and all the angels of this housely heaven ascending through the first roof of light the sun has made. This is the bright home in which I live, this is where I ask my friends to come, this is where I want to love all the things it has taken me so long to learn to love. This is the temple of my adult aloneness and I belong to that aloneness as I belong to my life. There is no house like the house of belonging.

@seths

Mar 13, 2024

Top Recs from @joshkosh

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Free stickers at the checkout counter

don’t give me a nasty bowl of mints. i want a free stickie that i’ll never do anything with

@joshkosh

Apr 2, 2024

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Todd and copper

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@joshkosh

Oct 31, 2024

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Severance - ling ma

dystopian/post-apoc easy read! I don’t read a ton of books in that genre, but found it really compelling or Bliss Montage, also by Ling Ma, is a great short stories collection. sometimes short stories are the best way for me to break out of a reading slump 🤌

@joshkosh

Apr 17, 2024