I VOW TO NEVER EXPRESS / EXPLAIN MY ARTISTIC INTERESTS TO ANYBODY IGNORANT OF IT. ANY FORM OF MUTUAL TRUST MUST BEGIN BY HIS / HER UNDERSTANDING FIRST,

AN EFFORT TO KNOW WHAT I LIKE BECAUSE HE / SHE WOULD LIFE TO FORGE A RELATIONSHIP.

PEOPLE ARE GOLD
BUT SOMETIMES THEY HAVE THIS MAGNETIC FIELD THAT DEVALUES THINGS THROUGH WORDS.

SCRUTINY.

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Stay Alive by José González
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I will not belittle my achievements. (seven words or less affirmation for this week)
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i’ve been thinking of lost things like missed connections and potentials not spent, or afternoon light that i can’t catch and words that slipped by mere seconds. there was the anger that one could have challenged or risks that one could have taken. at multiple instances, there was you, a city not here where i could have been. time flows but we argue: time is abstract / time is a human construct. and yet, i feel that i’ve lost time the most. like gallons of something liquid; a pail of milk. more than anything, it is this. when we came tumbling down the hill, it was time that spilled.

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Everything fell apart in me. How are things with you? Jack Kerouac  (via mirroir)
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One of the reasons why I don’t like to play outdoor festivals is cause I think there’s something really sacrilegious about blasting sound through a huge PA system in an outdoor environment. There’s something very environmentally irresponsible about that, you know? There’s something very strange about that that I’ve always had trouble dealing with. I like to think that music can have multiple functions but should always be sort of deliberate and responsible and sort of accommodating to each environment….I don’t think as a society we’re ever going to grow weary of music. I think it’s always going to be valuable. It’s funny, cause I think of architecture as being vital. Architecture is this sort of discipline in creating space which [sic] we inhabit, and architecture matters more than anything else because it’s all about physical matter that covers us. We live in these rooms, in these spaces. More Adz and Ends: An Interview with Sufjan Stevens, You’re So Post Post Rock Right Now, 7/25/2011
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You shall love your crooked neighbour, with your crooked heart. W.H. Auden (via thatkindofwoman)
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you read to heal but then you find lines to break your heart (from Nick Lantz’ How to Travel Alone):

Just days without you and I’ve got
that midnight streetlight tan,
that Big Chug Jug caffeine carelessness, that one loose
toll booth tooth, these highway hiccups.

and

There are only two directions in the map
of my life: the way to you, and the way
from you.

fire for fire, we light up.

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Lucas Zimmermann
Isn’t it rotten? There isn’t any use my telling you I love you. Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
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(i look at sand and the sand is within me. every night, i sink into this restless waiting of something unnamed. instead of undressing and removing the mascara and shedding the wrong kind of skin, tidying the debris of today, i stare and lie in wait. i apply more lipstick. i wait and do not sleep but because nothing happens, a certain vitality ebbs away that now i’m afraid i’m grasping on a connection so thin and frail. i sink. i feel a lack of something essential. i am so incredibly thirsty and in need of something real and heavy, a conversation, a weight, a solidity to keep me here, now and present. if living is living externally then i wish none of it. it does not fill you inside. it demands so much and takes so much that there is no more for reading, for seeking or meditation, for simple, mere dreaming. i do not feel like myself. living should only be about the soul but this soul is no longer breathing but crippled. internally it crawls; it weeps.)

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(never have you been more profound than in your prayers, murmuring: spare me your grace, spare me your grace because never have been self-loathing more felt than after midnight when all else is dark and heavy and consumed)

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1 Forth