(Source: likeafieldmouse)

I can walk into my regular bar
Where I know the names of all the tenders
And get a few free drinks
Chat up the regulars
Meet some new faces
Flirt
Talk about tattoos
Food
Don Quixote
Long Island Beach
Ancestry
Trans* rights
Rihanna
Pot
and Women’s Suffrage

I can get smoked up for free
Meet a chubby chaser or a few
I can put a smile on a lot of faces
Or just get sobbed at by drunks
Or chewed out by jealous boyfriends
Or drink alone till I can’t see straight
Or play with my dying phone
Until it’s time to walk home again

Or, I can go above and beyond. I can make intoxication sacred again. I can make every sip a divine encounter. I can make the bar a sacred space. The walk to and fro a divine procession. I can be a supplicant to holy chrism. I can allow the sacral into my body and mind.

Truth be told, though, if my Gods aren’t with me, I don’t want to be there. Can I go out and drink and have a good time without them? Without it being religious? Certainly! Does everything I drink need to be spiritual? No. But it’s better when I can share my moments with my God. A moment at a time is how we live our lives, and in truth a moment is all we’ve ever got. To fully and mindfully give my moments, joyful, melancholy, angry, guilty, aroused, drunken, whatever they may be, that is the best thing I can think to give my God.
Or anyone. Ever. A real, mindful, moment.

templewitch:

primalheart:

It’s been awhile since I broke out the sketch pad for actual sketching. Must be something in the air.

This little sketch excites me… The set of her jaw, the horns, the promise of action… I don’t know what.

Beautiful as always!

Mushy by Abby Diamond

I have seen into the heart of my most fiery Ardent One. This is not so far from the truth I know.

vwcampervan-aldridge:

Female Satyr, half woman half goat, early 18th century statue at Lord Byron’s home, Newstead Abbey, Nottinghamshire, England

benjaminblue:

It is I who have made the
decision to recount these
monumental steps

up to the pedestal of 
your resting place

though I’ve faded from
your wandering eyes
long ago,

I continue to force the world
to know of you and what I 
never had the chance to say

Who’s to say if you even
truly existed

I’ll persuade the world, rather,
of your dull flame

that burns bright in my eyes
long after it has died

but

who’s to say if this flame
was ever born

you were good at starting fires
that never lasted

but, this one did

There are those who, whether from lack of experience or from dullness of spirit, turn away in scorn or pity from Dionysus’s revelers, regarding such madness as ‘popular diseases’ while believing in their own good health. Of course, these poor creatures have not the slightest inkling of how deathly pale their ‘health’ seems when the glowing life of Dionysiac enthusiasts storms past them.
—Friedrich Nietzsche, “The Birth of Tragedy” (via theatermadnessanddietcoke)
In Adoration

Praise and Adorations to the Wild God who conquered Asia with an army of warrior women, ass-therions, and wild tigers! Praise to the Womanly God who is both femme and fierce! Adorations to the Wicked God whose hair is wreathed in serpents! Praise and Adorations to the Wailing God, who bursts open our hearts with His shouts of mania!

f-l-e-u-r-d-e-l-y-s:

art with embroidery by Ana Teresa Barboza Gubo

ellemuliarchyk:

Shooting the divine Ataui Deng for I Love You Magazine. 

artqueer:

Roberto Ferri: Orfeo, Oil on canvas.

(Source: oldroze)

tipsy decanter. yes please

(Source: ironcleffa)