February 2012
61 posts
When I was young I thought that being enigmatic and withdrawn was appealing. I thought that shouting it at the world would make me sensitive, or exposed, or brooding. It never worked. And now it’s just slurred words and crying in bathrooms like a fucking idiot. The jester must keep up his dance! God forbid he should don the mask of tragedy. No fun in that. Dance, Pagliacci! Paint me how you...
“But could you tell me, what is so terrible about stepping off the end of a...”
– Plainwater, Anne Carson (via kelsfjord)
4 tags
“While we may use reason to stratify and rationalize our moral feelings, I argue that it is ultimately a venture performed in vain—at least in some respects. As I have mentioned before, Kant’s own desire to extricate objective morality from subjective experience is admirable, but ultimately it fails because morality is just that: murky ambiguities. As human beings, we can choose only what...
3 tags
I see solar flares in sunsets and cosmic dust dancing on doorways and city streets. My life is continually bumbling and propping itself against the sheer materialism of the universe encompassing, suffocating, insulating, surrounding, me. I am dust, dust, dust. All I can ever think about is dust and vast distances and vibrating particles and mashing nebulas. I’m caught up in affairs so much...
The Aporeticus: Ways Not to Write →
mills:
I am a terrible descriptive writer in part because I am not perceptive about the world visually; in addition to being self-absorbed and inattentive, I have never acquired several important vocabularies which help one take note of what one sees. Like many men, I suppose, I’ve neglected color, and…
He peered at him from across the table, lips dripping at their corners incredulously. “You’re a real buzz kill, man. What are you even living for?” “Honestly?” “Honestly.” “Books and sex. If I didn’t have either of those I’d probably just slit my throat and be done with it.” He shook his head and left. Howard stayed in his seat and...
WatchThere is more.
“The secret of life is to have a task, something you devote your entire life to,...”
– Sculptor Henry Moore to poet Donald Hall (via nminusone)
Well. Maybe I could just be alone for awhile. And maybe I’m just not so good at writing. I guess that’s ok. Nothing to lose my head over. I could still be happy, right?
Right. I’ll be ok. No reason not to be ok.
Fuck Bitches. Read Hemingway.
There is nothing quite so destitute and broken as realizing that you cannot love what is there, in front of you. It has to be a million miles away, on an island you’ve only seen once. You can only care for what you can’t have. Your dreams are the closest thing to kissing, and she is only faded, worn memories. You feel her in the taste of rum, the shaking of the trees, a lonely piano in...
3 tags
Excerpt from journal, March 22,2011
“Because, by moving, we forget the static. We are given some freedom to explore the thought that life is always this new and exciting. That traveling to a new place somehow inherently increases your enjoyment of the human experience. But that’s not really true, is it? Because the new place eventually becomes old and you feel bored or, if you’re alone, sad. And then you’re...
6 tags
“So am I! I applied reason at every moment. Reason is excellent for getting food,...”
– -Yann Martel, Life of Pi
Been awhile since a book made me cry like this. What a wonder. What a testament to stories.
Well, that felt alright.
Take my verdict! To hell with you all! I would rather see it all burn than live like this. I would rather tug loose the fabric and unravel the secrets of this world before yielding to this fuck. Take your stupid fucking dick fuck ass shit stupid mother fucking heads and put them in a meat grinder. I want to fucking feel, give me feelings give me something for the love of god put something in my...
“For some reason, hopeful American progressives at this writing seem to believe...”
– Joe Bageant (via azspot)
Perhaps there is a strength in being empty. I can form what is unmade. I can coax meaning from infinity.
Fill, what is hollow.
Watch
6 tags
On Wobbling
Wobbling. You know how it is. The table you sit at in your favorite bookstore café always wobbles. You can never tell if it’s the top segment of the wood, attached to the neck, or the legs, lacking some support on one side. It seems to change every time you come in. Maybe they switch the tables? Maybe they fix it one day, and it breaks the next? Maybe your life is just a sad excuse for a...
“The key to the creative type is that he is separated out of the common pool of...”
– Ernest Becker in The Denial of Death, the thesis of which can perhaps be summed thusly: humanity sublimates its fear of death through the causa sui project: the construction of meanings which are enduring and non-contingent despite our mortality and ludicrous, creaturely contingency. Society,...
The Indestructible Creature →
5 tags
Howard, Monday Morning
Howard wished that he could spend all of his days like this, hunched over a book next to a rainy street, contemplative piano music and the smell of coffee all around him. No responsibilities but being aware of himself, and his book, and the few customers who sauntered into the shop out of the rain, exchanging pleasantries with the baristas and finding their own humble corner in the store. He knew...
Ah. To feel. What a thing to miss: feeling.
“I’m petrified about getting old and I’m incredibly nostalgic. Sometimes I feel...”
– Justin Young on ‘Wetsuit’ (via wake-as-the-swell-peaks) Mother of fuck. Is this that moment when you find something in art that directly mimics your personel perspective? Yes. Yes it is.
“Love in practice is a harsh and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams.”
– Dostoevsky’s Father Zossima (via azspot)
