#excerpts from my life

Alexander J. Bones

Hey guys I’m going to be moving my content primarily to YouTube since the changes for creators on Tumblr. I don’t really care for what is happening to the platform too much. I do hope you consider following me on this journey still. Thank you all so much.

Every artist has been told not to be an artist by the person who damaged them enough to become an artist.

wonder we go when we die

“i’m sorry if you touch my heart and find the scar tissue;

there used to be a thorn there

i’m sorry if the prick is like a diabetics reading; there used to be a thorn there.”

- words for us

A devastated soul can kill faster than any virus.

You might see the moon with someone else but you’ll never find our exact stars again.

I still see you when my eyes are closed.

It had been a while since I dreamt of you and now I am at the depths of despair missing you.

Pump liquor through your veins love is such a pain.

I loved you with everything I had, it just wasn’t enough.

I know you’ll never love me the way I want you to.

You were always the best mess I knew.

Don’t stay silent when it’s loud.

The long lost hours of sleep meant nothing for a precious love, but it lost its shine when you left me in the dark.

Wrote it last year, this time around..

I’m in the midst of this weird phase where my university flat does not feel like home, but neither does my house where I grew up.

stillness brings out the world’s inner most secrets.

I dont know where I’ll be in 5 or maybe 10 years. The view from my bedroom window on a rainy day helps me keep my sanity afloat. For when i feel the present slipping from between my fingers, i can try holding on to my past.

You feel distant, far away like the least lit star hanging in the night sky. I look for you in the day and in the night, at dusk and at dawn, at my high and at my low. I look for a sign that would point me towards you. I call you mine yet you are unknown. 

An excerpt from ‘Dreams and stones’ by Magdalena Tulli

My life is nothing but ordinary. I close my eyes. Open them. Find that nothing has changed but the day itself.

I wish I had a better reason for being this broken but instead I’m just constantly drunk and alone, trying to fix the broken pieces of me with drugs and alcohol that never works.

One of the worst feelings in this world is mourning the loss of someone who isn’t dead, just not there anymore. When you have to go through the grief over someone who is still alive, they just don’t want you.

I don’t think I will ever be enough There is something broken inside of me, like I am just made of broken pieces someone couldn’t quite fit together in the way they were supposed to. Like I was shattered at some point and they gave up before they got it right. I don’t think this is how humans are supposed to feel and now I am just sad and alone and scared and I think this is how its always going to be..

Im content with the fact that love wasnt meant for me and some people are too damaged for anything other than occasional attention when it suits others.

I used to think we were going to be like a fairy tale. But the things you did to me? 

That was out of a horror movie.

Last weekend I got to visit Alexandre Dumas’ castle and oh boy did he know how to spend his money. This castle has Everything. The whole place just shone with Great Decisions (naturally he had to sell it off after 4 years because money troubles). I genuinely loved it. Look at it:

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He named it after his novel, there’s a grotto, you get there going through a rock tunnel (all with convenient seats carved in of course) he put his faves on the outside and it all just has so much personality!

I’ll put some of my favourite features under the cut:

First of all, I’m gonna make a sepsrate post for Dumas’ writing castle, because yes he built a whole seperate castle to write in and it’s even more amazing. (The architect for both was Hippolyte Durand).

So, favourite features:

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The stonecarvings were so pretty! And so personal! Over everyone window is the bust of a great writer, I spotted Shakespeare, Euripides, Ovid. I can only imagine these were Dumas’ literary faves. The windows had stain glass symbolism too, but sadly no explanation what they meant (lots of playing cards and knights though, very fun and dramatic) @pilferingapples do you happen to know why the inscription on the knight window is German? Did Dumas speak german?

The Moorish room! Orientalism was going strong around 1840, and apparently Dumas went to Tunisia and brought back a father son artisan duo to make him this room:

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(I really want to know what this cost) it seemed like a great lounging room (especially if you might be just a tad hungover).

Dumas had to sell his furniture, so none of that remained, but the museum did get back his chair:

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Very cool, especially since we have a photp of Dumas in that chair (this was apparently where he did his last edits for his serial, it looked very comfy and heavily used)

The dining room was so beautiful and clearly the centre of the house. Dumas apparently cooked for his friends (sadly the kitchen is no more) and the parties must have been so amazing.

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It really wasn’t as grand or austentatious as I expected. I’d live there in a heartbeat.

And lastly, the feature I only just noticed as we were leaving:

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You can barely make it out, but it is Dumas’ personal motto on a very pretty carved stone scroll:

“J'aime qui m'aime”

I love who loves me. I want to shake both Dumas’ and Durand’s hands for every bit of personality they put into this castle. Amazing.

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My new hat and dress made a perfect castle visiting outfit

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My may holiday turned out unexpectedly summery and I neglected to bring my hat, so I bought a cheap ill-fitting straw hat at market and I’m going to turn it into something that does spark joy