January 2009
Just for future reference, don’t use words like “love”...
– Peter Craig, Hot Plastic
Now this was quite heavy.
ZOMG Holy shit. http://sb-cv.com/main/
(Be careful, do not die)
pretty-bird:
tumblsecrets:
“I censor my thought and my words even when I’m alone because I worry that someone I care about might have some way of reading my mind or seeing through my eyes.”
You grieve at the level you loved.
– Unknown
(via overflowing)
The air felt thinner in the room. Thinner, and sad. Can air feel sad?
– Naomi Shihab Nye
(via finallyseeing)
(Ain’t it apt for this tumblr?)
She wants to know if I love her, that’s all anyone wants from anyone else, not...
– Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (via thoughtsdetained) (via myhearteatsbeats) (via leforettt) (via likearaindrop) (via stilltime) (via pretty-bird)
There’s a little truth behind every ‘just kidding’, a little curiosity behind...
– (via mypaperheart) (via lovebot) (via theresolution) (via sleepanddream)
But I am also annoyed when the phone rings, or when the phone hasn’t rung...
– Lieke
I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient...
– Dr. Seuss (via littlemiss) (via kari-shma) (via cahayabintangku) (via breathsoftruth)
Today I was at the peak of being out-of-character.
The hypotheses of parallels.
Woke up from a nightmare I can’t recall last night/this morning.
People who talk about their dreams are actually trying to tell you things about...
– Chuck Klosterman (via sooshi) (via sunlit-skies) (via breathsoftruth)
proprioception
breathsoftruth:
knowing where you are in the world, where your body stops and everything else begins.
see also: je t’aime jusqu’au bout. to love someone all the way to the ends of their fingers and tips of their ears (etc) (bbc)
Random musings:
I probably draw scales of a chameleon better than rust on a lamp post.
Both I’d consider ugly, but the one that possesses life (albeit cold-blooded) is more beautiful.
I adore
paintings like autobiographies
installations like universes
sculptures like enclosures
lyrics that read like prose
photographs that read like poems
prose like melodies
I thought it’d be better friends-locking the livejournal. It doesn’t feel very different. I still feel restricted there, a little, I guess.
I don’t feel like I’m up for going to school tomorrow. Which is a very dangerous feeling, knowing myself. 3 of 4 common tests are back. Those situations are awkward. Those eyes. I sit blankly with a plagued mind. Those points at which...
It’s 6.54am in the morning, I just popped into my mom’s bedroom and did a backward somersault, and then fell off the bed and hit the wall. And now I’m giggling uncontrollably about how retarded I was.
Cheers - here’s to a great first day of school!
benign
Yes, I am human - very.
No, I am in love - probably.
Yes, I am an artist.
No, I am regretfully, not doing art right now.
Yes, my inner artist is still raging.
No, I don’t know what to do.
Yes, I probably will.
No, no, I’ll be fine - why not!
Hmmm.
Apparently I am lactose-intolerant. This is friggin’ strange.
Ten stories below they pray you’re like a cloud,
soft floating. You are...
– You, SANDRA BEASLEY
December 2008
thiscouldbe:
nervousacid:
I Will Follow You Into the Dark
There’s something awfully poetic about a college student interpreting a Death Cab for Cutie song in sign language while in front of Britney Spears poster in his dorm room. It just doesn’t get much more earnest than this on our planet.