Anomie
@adafrogg.bsky.social
she/her 🦷 adult 🦷 writer 🦷 weirdo 🦷 dni if you’re dumb
New Mexican style huevos rancheros, drowning in “Christmas” style chili (red and green).
November 19, 2025 at 1:24 AM
New Mexican style huevos rancheros, drowning in “Christmas” style chili (red and green).
Reposted by Anomie
A late birthday gift for @adafrogg.bsky.social <33
November 14, 2025 at 10:42 PM
A late birthday gift for @adafrogg.bsky.social <33
Reposted by Anomie
2/2 Van de Venne painted the grumpy owls, too. Such a charming pair! Now with spectacles as well as snacks.
November 12, 2025 at 4:21 PM
2/2 Van de Venne painted the grumpy owls, too. Such a charming pair! Now with spectacles as well as snacks.
Reposted by Anomie
Furthermore public transit teaches you how to live with temporary minor annoyances and cars teach you that you're god's most special baby and your moment-to-moment comfort is the only important thing in the world
October 29, 2025 at 5:15 PM
Furthermore public transit teaches you how to live with temporary minor annoyances and cars teach you that you're god's most special baby and your moment-to-moment comfort is the only important thing in the world
Both. But the important thing is that there was no way I wasn’t going to get a huge, glorious schnoz, which I love very much thank you.
October 23, 2025 at 4:58 PM
Both. But the important thing is that there was no way I wasn’t going to get a huge, glorious schnoz, which I love very much thank you.
I need more writer friends on here.
October 12, 2025 at 5:17 PM
I need more writer friends on here.
Reposted by Anomie
The extent to which my sense of humour has been largely massaged into its current state by spending 15 years on tumblr cannot be overstated.
October 11, 2025 at 3:46 PM
The extent to which my sense of humour has been largely massaged into its current state by spending 15 years on tumblr cannot be overstated.
I am always thinking unconsciously of the surreal James Dickey poem “A Folk Singer of the Thirties”, in which a hobo is crucified on the side of a train car and all the sources of the land’s wealth are magically revealed to him.
March 20, 2024 at 12:35 AM
I am always thinking unconsciously of the surreal James Dickey poem “A Folk Singer of the Thirties”, in which a hobo is crucified on the side of a train car and all the sources of the land’s wealth are magically revealed to him.
Reading Gaston Bachelard’s “The Poetics of Space”: mostly excerpts that jump out at me, since I’m having a hard time tying it to my own work on my childhood homes right now.
March 16, 2024 at 6:37 PM
Reading Gaston Bachelard’s “The Poetics of Space”: mostly excerpts that jump out at me, since I’m having a hard time tying it to my own work on my childhood homes right now.
February revision of an old August poem.
February 21, 2024 at 6:28 PM
February revision of an old August poem.
Accountability poetry post: generate a rough draft in gdocs by evening.
February 19, 2024 at 7:40 PM
Accountability poetry post: generate a rough draft in gdocs by evening.
Just watched an ep of Air Disasters where the copilot was trying to tell the pilot he was about to crash and the pilot was like, “no, no, I got it”… then the plane crashed and they died.
Anyways if that was me I’d be following him around in the afterlife like “I FUCKING TOLD YOU”
Anyways if that was me I’d be following him around in the afterlife like “I FUCKING TOLD YOU”
September 29, 2023 at 8:25 PM
Just watched an ep of Air Disasters where the copilot was trying to tell the pilot he was about to crash and the pilot was like, “no, no, I got it”… then the plane crashed and they died.
Anyways if that was me I’d be following him around in the afterlife like “I FUCKING TOLD YOU”
Anyways if that was me I’d be following him around in the afterlife like “I FUCKING TOLD YOU”
Typed up one of the handwritten drafts from earlier. Still very much a WIP, it’s the rough opening sketch of a possible prose poem project about childhood, place, and memory.
September 29, 2023 at 5:22 AM
Typed up one of the handwritten drafts from earlier. Still very much a WIP, it’s the rough opening sketch of a possible prose poem project about childhood, place, and memory.
Recent work, perhaps in more legible forms soon. Been doing so much writing and it feels like nothing afterwards, like washing my hands or eating something unmemorable. But there it is.
September 28, 2023 at 9:09 PM
Recent work, perhaps in more legible forms soon. Been doing so much writing and it feels like nothing afterwards, like washing my hands or eating something unmemorable. But there it is.
(David Attenborough narrating) As her offspring finishes its meal, the mother—a scavenger as well as an opportunistic predator—moves in.
(Camera zooms on me snatching up pieces of naan bread off my daughter’s plate rejected for being “too bumpy”)
(Camera zooms on me snatching up pieces of naan bread off my daughter’s plate rejected for being “too bumpy”)
September 24, 2023 at 12:59 AM
(David Attenborough narrating) As her offspring finishes its meal, the mother—a scavenger as well as an opportunistic predator—moves in.
(Camera zooms on me snatching up pieces of naan bread off my daughter’s plate rejected for being “too bumpy”)
(Camera zooms on me snatching up pieces of naan bread off my daughter’s plate rejected for being “too bumpy”)
Reposted by Anomie
top all time episode of columbo is the one where he tells a gym owner that his wife is thick as fuck and he loves women with fat asses
September 23, 2023 at 6:48 PM
top all time episode of columbo is the one where he tells a gym owner that his wife is thick as fuck and he loves women with fat asses
This morning’s consolation, and every other morning. “The daily accident,” I repeat to myself, putting on my mascara, pinning back my hair. “Walking bravely out into the daily accident. Ok. Here we go.”
September 23, 2023 at 7:23 PM
This morning’s consolation, and every other morning. “The daily accident,” I repeat to myself, putting on my mascara, pinning back my hair. “Walking bravely out into the daily accident. Ok. Here we go.”