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March 24 2017

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Svalbard in the Artic | John Bozin

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I really could go for… a cup of coffee… a sense of purpose… maybe $20,000… idk I’m just thinking out loud



stop believing that you ran out of time to shape yourself into who you want to be! stop believing that its ruined! stop believing you don’t have potential! you are not a fixed being! you have endless opportunities to grow.



me: *is overwhelmed by things i absolutely have the time to do*

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SNAPCHAT: quenchaul



I want to travel the world with the love of my life

March 23 2017

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i love how safe it feels when you are only surrounded by women

Can’t relate. Not a paranoid sheep.

Can’t relate, have been hurt more by women than men.

Can’t relate, the last time I was surrounded by just women I was sexually harassed and very close to raped for “choosing” not to be lesbian and then harassed at all hours of the day for DARING to be a trans guy who likes men (DOUBLE BRAINWASHED BY PATRIARCHY WHAMMY!).

Can’t relate, went to an all girl’s school for 2 years where I was bullied viciously (one girl actually tried to set fire to me), then went to a mixed school where I was bullied by girls and befriended by boys.

Like, I am not discounting that some people have had enough bad experiences with dudes that they don’t feel comfortable around them. That is very much a thing. What bothers me is the idea that a) women are inherently safe, b) all women are/should be afraid of men and c) anyone who is uncomfortable or downright afraid of women is a misogynist or dealing with internalised misogyny. If you personally feel safer around women, that’s fine. But it is not a logical reaction, any more than my intense nervousness whenever groups of teenage girls get on the bus is.

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self care is listening to Africa by Toto for 22 hours straight, staring into the void until all your feelings, impulses, muscles, and skin melt away and you are but a pile of bones vibrating along to 80’s synth wave




listening to mumford and sons always makes me wish I was a horse

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8/3 Today we picked the white apples. They have skins the color of old yellowed bones, and translucent flesh so that when you slice them open you can see the seeds through the flesh. Bone-and-glass apples, parchment apples, ghost apples.

They bruise easily, a purplish brown rather too similar to a bruise on human skin. If you pick one up, there’s a good chance the shapes of your fingertips will be marked on it the next day. I want to try writing words on them by pressing on them with a pencil eraser sometime.

They smell very faintly of perfume, maybe roses. They do not smell like apples. Apple maggots never infest them (probably because their growing time is too short to support the apple maggot fly life cycle. It’ll be another month or two before the rest of our apples are ripe).

They’re lovely. They are also disgusting. Mealy and soft, with no flavor whatsoever. They’re not sweet. They’re not even sour. It’s like a mouth full of wet cotton ball. I’m pretty sure I spit it out the first time I tried one.

I hope you all understand how weird this is: even the goats are reluctant to eat them. They’ll eat an apple or two, but then they lose interest (except in keeping the sheep from eating any, of course).

I have no idea why a previous resident planted the ghost-apple tree. If they have any flavor at all, only the restless dead can taste it.

I have to say, I’ve seen, researched, and planted a lot of apples in my time, but I have never seen anything like this.

My best guess is that your tree is a chance seedling with a genetic mutation, given that it is both leucistic/albinoid and early-ripening. I’d hazard a guess it’s also polyploid.

lazyevaluationranch: If you’re able to save some scion wood next Autumn, I’d be very interested in grafting a branch or two of this to one of my trees: not for the utility of it, so much as for the novelty and breeding possibilities.

A little added info: It could be a variety of Potter County White Transparent. From the heritage apple site

White Transparent, Ghost or Spirit Apple, or Apples of Saint Peter. The Russian Petrovka group are all thin-skinned pale apples that ripen near the feast of Saint Peter, and are offered to Widows and orphans (first fruits) or to the graves of the recent dead of the winter, representing God’s Mercy after trial. Apple associated with Baba Yaga, and with foretelling the past or the future. This Transparent is from Coudersport, Pennsylvania, likely brought as seed with Russian immigrants.

Holy shit…

In modern Pennsylvania sweet old grannies race to buy them up during their harvest time to make applesauce for the coming holidays. It’s the best applesauce you’ll ever have and it feels like a light foam or gel on your tongue. My grandma makes the best ghost applesauce.

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Was actually sunny today 🌸

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