dude eres un intelectual nato.ugh
I’d rather sell tortillas in the market in Toluca than have anything to do with people like me.
I’d rather sell tortillas in the market in Toluca than have anything to do with people like me.
I'm Ariel.
I’d rather sell tortillas in the market in Toluca than have anything to do with people like me.
concept art
It would be a drawing of a cross, simple, just two lines, and then I’d draw another, bigger cross around it, like this:
The idea is, I keep doing this, “encircling” the original, simple cross, until the outer crosses start to become crooked and disfigured and imperfect, and this would be like a thing about how Christ’s message was etcétera, throughout the centuries etcétera, maybe the word “institutionalized” thrown in.
I’m not much for concept art, I think.
“
‘…But look here, suppose for the sake of argument you abandoned a besieged town to the enemy and then somehow or other not very long afterwards you go back to it—there’s something about my analogy I don’t like, but never mind, suppose you do it—then you can’t very well expect to invite your soul into quite the same green graces, with quite the same dear old welcome here and there, can you, eh? […] Even, I wouldn’t say, if that town seems to be going about its business again, though in a somewhat stricken fashion, I admit, and its trams running more or less on schedule.’ The Consul strapped his watch firmly on his wrist. ‘Eh?’
— Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano
— Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano
“
It is the awe before the miracle
that despite infinite chances,
that despite knowing that we are
the drops in the river of Heraclitus,
something in us endures:
immovable,
something that did not find what it was looking for.
— Jorge Luis Borges
that despite infinite chances,
that despite knowing that we are
the drops in the river of Heraclitus,
something in us endures:
immovable,
something that did not find what it was looking for.
— Jorge Luis Borges
“
We are the girls with anxiety disorders, filled appointment books, five-year plans. We take ourselves very, very seriously. We are the peacemakers, the do-gooders, the givers, the savers. We are on time, overly prepared, well read, and witty, intellectually curious, always moving… We pride ourselves on getting as little sleep as possible and thrive on self-deprivation. We drink coffee, a lot of it. We are on birth control, Prozac, and multivitamins… We are relentless, judgmental with ourselves, and forgiving to others. We never want to be as passive-aggressive as our mothers, never want to marry men as uninspired as our fathers… We are the daughters of the feminists who said, “You can be anything,” and we heard, “You have to be everything.
— Courtney Martin (via veritedansbeaute)
— Courtney Martin (via veritedansbeaute)
(Source: sassysluteverforever, via thefuryofovershoes)
“
The tragedy, proclaimed, as they made their way up the crescent of the drive, no less by the gaping potholes in it than by the tall exotic plants, livid and crepuscular through his dark glasses, perishing on every hand of unnecessary thirst, staggering, it almost appeared, against one another, yet struggling like dying voluptuaries in a vision to maintain some final attitude of potency, or of a collective desolate fecundity, the Consul thought distantly, seemed to be reviewed and interpreted by a person walking at his side suffering for him and saying: ‘Regard: see how strange, how sad, familiar things may be. Touch this tree, once your friend: alas, that that which you have known in the blood should ever seem so strange! Look up at that niche in the wall over there on the house where Christ is still, suffering, who would help you if you asked him: you cannot ask him. Consider the agony of the roses. See, on the lawn Concepta’s coffee beans, you used to say they were Maria’s, drying in the sun. Do you know their sweet aroma any more? Regard: the plantains with their queer familiar blooms, once emblematic of life, now of an evil phallic death. You do not know how to love these things any longer. All your love is the cantinas now: the feeble survival of a love of life now turned to poison, which only is not wholly poison, and poison has become your daily food, when in the tavern—
—
—
Malcolm Lowry, Under the Volcano
God damn, this woke me up.
-
sister:
you keep listening to that, what is that?
-
me:
it's actually a great album, it's based on the artist's feelings about Anne Frank, and it can be very moving at times. You'd really appreciate it if you gave it a chance.
-
speakers:
your father made fetuses with flesh licking ladies
-
sister:
Ariel.
I DON’T WANT TO GET UP THIS MORNING.
SEND HELP.
» Get Scared
“Get scared. It will do you good. Smoke a bit, stare blankly at some ceilings, beat your head against some walls, refuse to see some people, paint and write. Get scared some more. Allow your little mind to do nothing but function. Stay inside, go out - I don’t care what you’ll do; but stay scared as hell. You will never be able to experience everything. So, please, do poetical justice to your soul and simply experience yourself”
— Albert Camus, from Notebooks, 1951-1959
(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via panoramicchrestomathy)
-
[looking at a client's receipt]
-
me:
sword, sword with mask, revolver, tiara, another tiara... what in God's name is this man up to.
-
[looks at the name of the store]
-
[it's a toystore]
“
Remember
the sky bled down & we
were running, smiling wide
with our arms raised. Not afraid
of anything ever. The way
days pass & we end up
under covers, socks pulled
to our knees. The way I bruise
without touching anything. The way
you forgot my birthday & brought me
flowers for no reason. Everything
is so convenient. We grow
teeth without trying.
— Alexis Pope, excerpt from “A No Good Seasonal Depression” (via meadowbreath)
the sky bled down & we
were running, smiling wide
with our arms raised. Not afraid
of anything ever. The way
days pass & we end up
under covers, socks pulled
to our knees. The way I bruise
without touching anything. The way
you forgot my birthday & brought me
flowers for no reason. Everything
is so convenient. We grow
teeth without trying.
— Alexis Pope, excerpt from “A No Good Seasonal Depression” (via meadowbreath)
(Source: larmoyante, via thefuryofovershoes)
