#Spilt Milk

[nill0167]

fanart i did for an osc server teehee

#drawing #digital art #art #artwork #fanart #fan art #baked beans #spilt milk #osc #object shows #object head

[winke1]

#spilt milk #hot male torso #hot male teen #wet male chest #wet male torso #bathtime #men in the shower #men in the bathtub #nude male teen #teen bodybuilder #teen muscle #blue eyes #smooth chest #smooth torso #happy trail #ripped abs #smooth body #6 pack abs #sexy abs #hot abs

[izitin]

Spilt some milk on the sheets last-night after my gf feel asleep on me again

#spilt milk #bustednut #sticky surprise

[readerbookclub]

Hello everyone! This month I'm bringing back the "A Trip To..." series. Last time we went on a trip to Ireland, and this time we're going to Brazil! This is a list full of novels that take place in Brazil, and are written by Brazilian writers. Thank you so much to someone who suggested this to me in our last survey.

As always, don't forget to vote for our next book using the link at the bottom of the post. Onto the books!

Blood-Drenched Beard, by Daniel Galera and translated by Alison Entrekin

—So why did they kill him? —I’m getting there. Patience, tchê. I wanted to give you the context. Because it’s a good story, isn’t it?

A young man’s father, close to death, reveals to his son the true story of his grandfather’s death, or at least the truth as he knows it. The mean old gaucho was murdered by some fellow villagers in Garopaba, a sleepy town on the Atlantic now famous for its surfing and fishing. It was almost an execution, vigilante style. Or so the story goes.

It is almost as if his father has given the young man a deathbed challenge. He has no strong ties to home, he is ready for a change, and he loves the seaside and is a great ocean swimmer, so he strikes out for Garopaba, without even being quite sure why. He finds an apartment by the water and builds a simple new life, taking his father’s old dog as a companion. He swims in the sea every day, makes a few friends, enters into a relationship, begins to make inquiries.

But information doesn’t come easily. A rare neurological condition means that he doesn’t recognize the faces of people he’s met, leading frequently to awkwardness and occasionally to hostility. And the people who know about his grandfather seem fearful, even haunted. Life becomes complicated in Garopaba until it becomes downright dangerous.

Spilt Milk, by Chico Buarque and translated by Alison Entrekin

As Eulalio Assumpcao lies dying in a Brazilian public hospital, his daughter and the attending nurses are treated--whether they like it or not--to his last, rambling monologue. Ribald, hectoring, and occasionally delusional, Eulalio reflects on his past, present, and future--on his privileged, plantation-owning family; his father's philandering with beautiful French whores; his own half-hearted career as a weapons dealer; the eventual decline of the family fortune; and his passionate courtship of the wife who would later abandon him. As Eulalio wanders the sinuous twists and turns of his own fragmented memories, Buarque conjures up a brilliantly evocative portrait of a man's life and love, set in the broad sweep of vivid Brazilian history.

The Hour of the Star, by Clarice Lispector translated by Benjamin Moser

Narrated by the cosmopolitan Rodrigo S.M., this brief, strange, and haunting tale is the story of Macabéa, one of life's unfortunates. Living in the slums of Rio and eking out a poor living as a typist, Macabéa loves movies, Coca-Colas, and her rat of a boyfriend; she would like to be like Marilyn Monroe, but she is ugly, underfed, sickly and unloved. Rodrigo recoils from her wretchedness, and yet he cannot avoid the realization that for all her outward misery, Macabéa is inwardly free/She doesn't seem to know how unhappy she should be. Lispector employs her pathetic heroine against her urbane, empty narrator—edge of despair to edge of despair—and, working them like a pair of scissors, she cuts away the reader's preconceived notions about poverty, identity, love and the art of fiction. 

Captains of the Sand, by Jorge Amado translated by Gregory Rabassa

They call themselves “Captains of the Sands,” a gang of orphans and runaways who live by their wits and daring in the torrid slums and sleazy back alleys of Bahia. Led by fifteen-year-old “Bullet,” the band—including a crafty liar named “Legless,” the intellectual “Professor,” and the sexually precocious “Cat”—pulls off heists and escapades against the right and privileged of Brazil. But when a public outcry demands the capture of the “little criminals,” the fate of these children becomes a poignant, intensely moving drama of love and freedom in a shackled land.

The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas, by Machado De Assis and translated by Flora Thompson-DeVeaux

The ghost of a decadent and disagreeable aristocrat decides to write his memoir. He dedicates it to the worms gnawing at his corpse and tells of his failed romances and halfhearted political ambitions, serves up harebrained philosophies, and complains with gusto from the depths of his grave. Wildly imaginative, wickedly witty, and ahead of its time, the novel has been compared to the work of everyone from Cervantes to Sterne to Joyce to Nabokov to Borges to Calvino, and has influenced generations of writers around the world.

Please vote for our next book here.

#book list #Brazil #Brazilian literature #blood-drenched beard #daniel galera #spilt milk #chico baurque #the house of little stars #clarice lispector #captains of the sand #jorge amado #the posthumous memoirs of bras cubas #machado de assis

[sophiaphile]

#king mala #grocery store #spilt milk #new music friday #Spotify

[timmurleyart]

Spilt milk. 🧽🥛🎨

#illustrationartists #illustrated book #digital art #digital doodle #digital sketch #publishing #storyboard #storyboarding #character art #character design #character illustration #spilled milk #spilt milk #milk #leche #dulce de leche #lait #don’t cry over spilled milk #childrens books #childrens book illustration #picture books #picture book art #picture book illustration #kids art #kids books #pop art #folk art #photoshop #procreate art #milk shakes

[shopkinsgirl]

Every spilt milk Shopkins known to man

(please inform me if I’ve missed)

(I forgot to post this yesterday, Oopsie)

#shopkins #spilt milk #shopkin spilt milk

[mumusmarket]

I made this sticker concept but I really don't like how it turned out. For now, this'll be scrapped but I'd love to revisit it in the future!  I'm really struggling to convert Mu's colors into CMYK for some reason even though I've done it before!

Posted using PostyBirb

#cmyk #crybaby #spilt milk #kawaii #anthro

[thefarfield-s5s]

Rat party

#the far field #susan5sigma #photography #nyc photography #fivesigmaphoto #nyc street photography #photographers on tumblr #on the streets #brooklyn #color photography #streetphotography #beyond the streets #street photografie #urban landscape #industrial #hipster paradise #spilt milk #greenpoint #onthestreet #deep greenpoint #couches #have a seat #i love new york #nighttime lights #night crawling #night walk #blob dylan

[rottingcircus]

my inktober day two ^:) prompt “Heart”

#blood warning #blood // #heart #inktober #frinktober #spilt milk #my art #rat-tracks #Illustration #yk ive never understood if you're allowed to use colors in inktober or not? so ive kept them relatively muted

[teganfrid]

#inktober #inktober2022 #empty #spilt milk #kitten #cute #tiny #illustration #drawing #black and white

[strawberryrain]

"the milk that is spilt cries not out afterwards" new saying eveyone! We will no longer be accepting "don't cry over spilt milk"

#Dracula daily #Spilt milk #Sayings

[sodetectivefestival]

flattery ; a true love that never was

My friends seemed to always like to use the secret is in the pudding saying on every of mine’s and my loved one’s mistakes. The difference wasn’t in their wise sayings than it was in my husband and I. We knew and accepted who we were and weren’t keen to take short-cuts in our love lives. Be they towards our extinction, or maybe towards our own liberation; we absolutely didn’t care. I now have to live with a painstaking sorrow of having been in love without care. And had our children suffer for it.

We might’ve been happy in each other’s arms, been able to buy each other expensive gifts, lingerie’s and fresh flowers but his lack of continuity in tucking me to bed, would surely continue to set tongues wagging for some times to come. I wish I could’ve been able to coerce him to hold me close. Let my body whisper to mine in tandem; like we were made for each other. I had a dream of being on top of everything concerning our relationship. Having me fall in love with me was easy. All it took was I asking him out on a date.

I knew how capable he was in making a mess of any woman’s life and career but, I absolutely didn’t care about the consequences or the repercussions of any step I took. I had hoped that my friends would be present in our lives when he began turning me off. But like I told them before it happened; none of them was ever there for me. And my therapist used to tell me that; sometimes dreams never come true, that sometimes true love is a farce. But I couldn’t bring myself to believe her because all I was hoping for was no longer a dream but a destiny.

Had envisioned a pathway to everlasting love and happiness. Than have a man control almost every aspect of my life. His cynical thoughts, questions nearly had me pull all hair from my skull. Every time he spoke I realized how much of my time trying to convince him to love me. I fell for his charm the first time  I saw him all dressed up in his company’s work-wear, smelling nice behind a supermarket’s counter, serving people up.

I immediately wished I could get to be appointed to the same job as him but, I later found being a store manager of a food chain company too stupid a prospective job for me. I visit him every now and then at the store hoping to hear him tell me; let’s go job-hunting. He had seen and observed how enchanting my interactions with his fellow tellers were. His six days a week work schedule made our love for each other more impossible than I thought when we first met.

I know I’m a forgiving person but, I knew back then I wouldn’t quickly recover from all the pain and hurt he caused me by refusing to play his part in our relationship. It were like he and I had never openly spoke about what our relationship goals were. When I first invited him over to my house, he seemed eager to spend the night with me, until he got a call from a stranger, who by his reaction after having taken it, I swore it were from a woman. I had worn my best night dress because I was willing to have him show me what he was made of.

Instead of shedding tears, crying over spilt milk, he should’ve thanked his lucky stars that I refused to force him into doing something that he might’ve later lived to regret. To be frank, I was much more hurt than he was back then because; he had failed to show me how much he loved and valued me. When I heard rumors that my best friend had him eating from palms of here hands, I thanked my lucky stars for having had refused to sleep with him. A day after he had lied to me about where the call he had taken in my presence had come from.

I had no real good memories about him I could share with the world but I my friends still seemed keen to share their breakfasts dinners and lunches with him. People who used to correct me whenever I seemed to be stepping out of line, had mysteriously become my boyfriend’s servants. Who would’ve thought a dream I had a long ago about me being the only woman in any man’s life could quickly blow up in my face when I was that young? You see, during our twenties we make our beds and lie in them so that in our forties and fifties we don’t have to look back at our youths with tears falling from our eyes.

Though I’m married with three kids and me and my husband’s business doing well, I couldn’t bring myself to admit that his and mine were a love on a rebound. And my dream of having everlasting love couldn’t have come at the right time when I were a year short to being thirty four. I still can’t believe that I’m still getting shattered whenever I see a man I wholly believed in changing women like if he doesn’t he’d quickly go out of fashion. But for my friends to having fell for his charm that easily and turned their backs on me when I needed them most, I figure needs to be my story for another day.

I might not know what I might’ve done to him to be in this day by day pain. All I know is; he and I we made for each other. I don’t know what I have to do to have him openly speak and admit to me and my husband that he had wronged me a lot in his life. I had witnessed many people getting hurt in love but I was the worst.

#spilt milk #love on a rebound eafer witnessed #the secret is in the pudding #shedding tears #lucky stars #good memories #short cuts #extinction #lberation #writerblr #tumblr fiction author #fanfiction

[itscrystql]

indomitable human spirit

please don’t ever let me go

never make me understand

the voices that belong to demons

that haunt and plague my society and my home

please don’t

#uncontrollable #emotion #anger #helpless #defeatist #defeated #surrender #give up #shame #understanding #empathy #deep #poetry #indomitable #human spirit #war #hope #spilt milk #past #character #history background #understand

[but-mostly-que]

Spilt Milk

Spilt milk. There's no point crying over it. It's a saying.

And here I am being asked to. Being yelled at because I'm NOT sorry enough. I am not disturbed enough to jump immediately and offer help. I am a cold woman, an uncaring partner, a loveless marriage in action because my reaction wasn't what he wanted.

"Aaaaaah! Freeze!"

And so I do. But that's wrong.

"Can you HELP me?! At least fetch a cloth! Why aren't you bothering to help me?!?" "Uhm, you said freeze?", but I fetch the cloth anyway.

I know the problem is just starting. The lecture begun. The trial in session. Why don't I care enough to offer help? Why wouldn't I know how serious the situation is? Couldn't I see the milk EVERYWHERE? Why can't I just care more? Why did he have to ASK for help? Why did he have to ask for a cloth? Why didn't I try calm him down? Why didn't I try harder to diffuse his temper when he was clearly upset? That's what a partner is meant to do he believes.

And I defend. I reason I did everything that was clearly asked of me. I froze, I fetched & I answered all the Whys and Wheres.

But in my heart, as the argument spins on and on for hours because he isn't hearing the mysterious answer he claims he needs in order to move on... I keep thinking... I don't cry over spilt milk. I'm done with this big regret.

#i regret everything #relationships #marriage #blame! #spilt milk #spilt thoughts #diffuser #you make it worse #reason #dont blame me

[shopkinsgirl]

Shopkins daily!

day 3. 24/1/19

🩵 Spilt Milk🥛 is a rare Dairy Shopkin from Season One. She was also released in Season Five as an ultra rare Charm. In Season Nine, she was re-released in the Dairy Wrappers Tribe

(follow for more shopkins daily!)

#shopkins #spilt milk #shopkin spilt milk