Rot, Oil Painting By Eve Hyman

Sorry guys, I listened to Abbey for the first time and now I’m Fleshposting again.

rotting in my childhood bedroom

[I.D: A digital illustration depicting a person laying on their back, with their legs up on a bed. Their face is completely obscured except for the right eye, which has a tired expression. On both their arms, and on part of their stomach, grow mushrooms of various kinds. There's also moss, small plants, and even a few flowers, covering most of their skin. They are covered in dirt and mold, that also extends to other parts of the room. To the left of the image is a big bear plush, sitting on its hind legs; it has a sewn on patch and it's slashed open across the stomach. The person's hand closer to it is holding a bit of the stuffing. On its feet lay other toys. The room has a heart decal that goes around the top of the wall, and it has one window over the bed, with curtains. The whole illustration has very dark colors, mostly blue and grey except for the moss, mold, mushrooms, and dirt. End I.D]

I often do Russian horror illustrations, often working with body horror, insects and mushrooms

I'm normal about the magnus archives

Digging too deep:

Philosophical obsession to the point of self destruction

[Image description: A collage consisting of 10 different photographs and quotes, all related to digging and holes. From top to bottom:

A wikipedia headline that says “Law of Holes”.

A close up of a shovel, digging into loose dirt.

An excerpt from a wikipedia article about the law of holes: The law of holes or the first law of holes, is an adage which states: "if you find yourself in a hole, stop digging." It is used as a metaphor, warning that when in an untenable position, it is best to stop making the situation worse.”

A lyrics excerpt from ‘The Song With Five Names’ by Will Wood: You can break a shovel when you break new ground / You dig dirt up when you dig deep down / You should know better than that by now / It's not profound to know that you could never know!

A blurry photograph of a dark rectangular hole in the ground, seemingly a grave. The hole is so dark the bottom of it isn’t visible. Besides the hole there is a pile of dirt.

A lyrics excerpt from ‘Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!’ by Will Wood and The Tapeworms: Gotta get to the bottom of this/ Gotta get to the bottom of this / Gotta get to the bottom of this / Gotta gotta get, gotta gotta get, gotta get / Gotta get to the bottom of this / Gotta gotta get, gotta gotta get, gotta get / Gotta get to the bottom of this / Gotta gotta get, gotta gotta get, gotta get / Gotta get to the bottom of this / If it kills me

An excerpt from a wikipedia article about the law of holes: The second law of holes is commonly known as: "when you stop digging, you are still in a hole."

A photograph of a deep round hole. There’s a ladder going down into it and the bottom of the hole isn’t visible.

An excerpt from the transcript of episode 88 of The Magnus Archives: It was very strange. It was just the one word, solid capital letters in a small, neat typeface at the very centre of the page. It said ‘DIG’. I took that to be the title, and turned to the next page. ‘DIG’. Exactly the same. The third page. ‘DIG’. The fourth page. ‘DIG’. Dig, dig, dig, dig.

A lyrics excerpt from ‘Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!’ by Will Wood and The Tapeworms: Looking down I could say heaven sent me / Hand me my shovel, I’m going in!

/end ID]

[‘Law of Holes’ - Wikipedia, ‘The Song with Five Names, a​.​k​.​a. Soapbox Tao, a​.​k​.​a. Checkmate Atheists! a​.​k​.​a. Neospace Government, a​.​k​.​a. You Can Never Know’ - Will Wood and the Tapeworms, ‘Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!’ - Will Wood and the Tapeworms, MAG 88 ‘Dig’ - The Magnus Archives]

sometimes i'm not quite here.

sophocles/unknown/eva baltasar/clementine von radics/unknown/j.d. salinger/susan sontag

The Survivor - René Magritte / Alligator Blood - Nicole Dollanganger

“The blood flowed freely in my veins, but a weight of despair and remorse pressed on my heart, which nothing could remove.”

— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein