Please throw. (press play to hear sweet, pleading mews)
The Irritating Gentleman - Berthold Woltze
1874
why does this communicate the universal mood we women experience so perfectly
This is doubly annoying because she’s clearly in mourning; look at her clothes. those are mourning clothes. The way she clutches her handkerchief. The wetness of her eyes. She’s not a lark to the seaside, she’s traveling to or from a funeral.
And this dandy fuckboy can’t look beyond his own nose and have some fucking respect.
This is why I support artists. You can tell a story without any words at all. You don’t even need to title this piece “The Irritating Gentleman” and yet most 21st Century women will know exactly what this 19th Century woman endured on the day of that painting.
Concept: I finish school. The job I work isn’t my dream job but I enjoy doing it greatly still. It pays enough to cover everything I might need. My bills are never overdue. Money is not a thought in my head. I have a place to live. So do my dogs. It is nice and warm, I have some plants, my bookshelves are full, my sheets are always clean. There is time to read at the end of a day. I read a lot. Thinking is a good thing. I meet up with friends regularly, old and new. They love me. We make memories. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I travel a few times a year, always different places. The places I see steal my breath away. The people I meet teach me of life. They are good. There is no war. The sea calls to me and pay visit. I am independent. I am content.
we are such a sad generation. the dream is a modest and decent life.
And still, it feels unattainable.
You know? I actually prefer to think of it as regaining sanity after all the delusions of grandeur older generations had. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a normal, decent life with just enough, and tbh it’s their fault we think there IS something wrong with it.
Yeah but like do you remember being young and dreaming of being an astronaut or a lawyer or a doctor or an inventor? When your dreams were to make an impact? To be remembered? When you wanted to be a rock star or a dancer or a zookeeper?
I spend my days dreaming of a stable home for myself and my family where we don’t have to worry about where groceries are going to come from and I spend my nights imagining terrible ways I could lose what little stability I have.
We were supposed to do better than our parents. Instead we’re inheriting the same shit world their parents were born into.
Physically, I may be here. But mentally I am in a small coastal village in New England, it's late afternoon in autumn and I am wearing a flannel and drinking apple cider. I'm sitting on my back porch, surrounded by trees, and the only sound is the faint sound of the waves crashing onto the shore in the distance.
men be like: oh no,, my ego, my poor ego! oh woman, could you spare a stroke? stroke my ego just once? oh, you refuse? that’s fine, i don’t mind. i diagnose you with whore