I surrender to the abyss calling my eyelids ever down, to the place only seen with eyes closed while breath is deep and even. My body weary and mind ascatter I bid goodnight to the other late night wanderers, may your dreams deliver the things day life never seems to.
Folk music seems to speak to the American soul, the hipsters and even the punk rockers find it leaking in. The promise of the west was just so big even today we cannot escape it. Even knowing that the promise was only possible through theft, knowing the cost of human suffering to the first nations then and now. The promise to make your own way, and live as you wanted to was an outlandishly big promise.
From Shore to shore and North to South the land is filled with people and still we dream of the west, of open expanses and of destiny. So even when people that feel like they’re wearing like a fashion rather than believing in it pick it up I forgive them. I know from the look of me you would never suspect someone that dreams of farming lives inside me, but then who ever understood what the heart wants?
I was trapped in the mountains and woods with two crazy women. They took all the joy out of fucking by talking about it all the time. I like to fuck too, but it wasn’t my religion. There were too many ridiculous and tragic things about it. People didn’t seem to know how to handle it. So they made a toy out of it. A toy that destroyed people.
paradoxesandpalindromes:
my imagination is already spinning at what is going on outside the frame.
As to the photo, 3 patterns none causing disharmony. The floor, the women and the diamond formed by the women’s feet and the photographers feet. The sinuous line where the two women’s feet meet is particularly interesting; one curving inward, one curving outward breaking symmetry, but holding closer together.
as to the words
Symmetry and destruction. Exaltation through debasement. I fear to read Bukowski, though I suppose I always brace inwardly regardless of what philosophy I read. Bukowski in some regards more than others, because too many people I’m drawn to seem to hold him with deep regard and high esteem. Of the snippets I’ve read, I fear their attraction to him is the thing that repulse me about them. More so I fear to find those same things I’ve found to dislike in Bukowski buried inside of me.
What if buried like some cancer is that misanthropy that I’ve ascribed to him? How much of myself am I willing to cut away to root that out? I only need 2 more suggestions before he’s added to my reading list. It’s getting long and really dark, but after this fantasy kick I’m on I suppose A light in August will serve for a palate cleanser. I’m hovering at 2100 pages read in about a month, and I have nearly 9500 more to finish the series.
(Source: charlottesbed)
It sounds right, for the most part…I’m not sure that anybody will ever recapture Scott from days gone by.
I’m somewhere in the middle of this. Where I’ve worked for the last 8 years is a jacket and tie establishment, perhaps 4 but as little as 2 years ago I decided to forego the blazer. I’d destroyed the linings over the course of my daily activities and couldn’t square my 50lbs lifting requirement in the job description with what they asked me to wear. I miss the sports coats, and matching coat and tie with shirt and pants was something my wife actually enjoyed in the morning.
All that aside, when we do decide to go out after work I am invariably better dressed than any of my friends. Privately, I think that has caused my wife to “dress up” more than she otherwise would be inclined; to not appear out of place standing next to me in public. Admittedly my perspective is skewed, as you are inclined to norm to those that you find yourself around. I work next to a building filled with Lawyers, Accountants and other “I need to wear a suit to work” types. It may not be the tallest building in the city, but it is the tallest building for blocks and blocks lending it a certain grandeur.
I do agree with the author that we as a nation could dress better and feel that Silicon Valley’s rise has decimated peoples feeling of need to wear grown up clothes. It’s odd that this article should fall before me on the same day as one that I had just been contemplating what I’m calling post opulence society. It was strictly speaking in reference to The Great Gatsby, the novel and how nice and well made things no longer are excessively expensive. Globalization, democratization of the means to production and thousands of small steps have made opulence seem petty and our social betters no longer hold the luster they once had. The country as a whole has seen the work it takes to look that way, live that way and decided we would rather play angry birds or reruns than chase perfection. The co-worker and I don’t understand the society and pressures they where experiencing because we just did’t care. An older co-worker talked about in particular when men where courting her (in a time gone by?) that invariably it would come to them telling you how well off they where, just like how Gatsby was showing Daisy around his home. I can only speak for myself, and those romances I’ve seen unfold around me, but wealth was never a part of those.
1/3rd of the way through book 3 of a 14 book series. 1-6 will be mostly me remembering what I read years ago, the rest are going to be a slog. I mean to be free of this series of books before the end of the summer, I just wish it didn’t mean I was so tired and so distracted.
Good thing. It just wouldn’t be the same without the porn gifs.
Short and sweet, perhaps most interesting that it’s making it into popular culture enough that we’ll see an article like this from an established media outlet. Even if it is a progressive one, and only online.
(Source: syntheticpubes)
As much as I like Marissa Meyer, and I do like her a lot, I do not want to see Tumblr under a traditional corporate structure.
I fear that without David, this would not be the service it is. I’m just getting used to it as it is, seeing the subtle brilliance (even when some features are janky or broken).
Love, symmetry, hope, tradition, duty.
Perhaps I’ve read too many books, perhaps too few. They’ve filled my head with ideas of how a family should look, how order should proceed. I dream for respect and fear the burden of sitting at the head of the table.
I suppose I dream a great many things, so few of them have any bearing on the world at large. Why should that one be such a totem?
Faeriday!
Let’s kick this weekend off the right way.
~Fae~
No actual kicking though, okay?
Huzzah! My new cocktail blog just launched!!
Two friends and I have been trading cocktail recipes and spirit suggestions back and forth for a...
i violently hate people
Hey! Stop staring at my socks!
I was trapped in the mountains and woods with two crazy women. They took all the joy out of fucking by talking about it all the time. I like to...
I find them on subways reading books I have on my list of Books To Read. I find them at bars dancing more enthusiastically...
Stepping outside, it’s spring on Nantucket, the dune roses just starting to bud. Salt touches my skin and fills my nose. Mist wraps me like a...
