Black Magic

whatimthinkinbout:

new wes anderson
i love his use of color
bill murray is getting old you guys 

(Source: e-pic)

2011? I couldn’t write about 2011. I took far too many psychedelics to express last year in words.

I will try, however.

I worked, a lot. Hard. Several promotions came my way. I deserved all of them. I tried to return to heartlessness but I found myself more in love. I loved you all year but I wish I didn’t fuck you all year (but i’m so glad I did). It has left me so bitter and back the front. I developed a very silly tolerance to all of my favourite drugs: pills, acid, k, gas etc. So silly that I was dumping more than ten dingers in a casual night or eating upwards of four tabs at once. I’ve lost thirteen kilos. I ate grass. I ate cigarettes. I played in the mud. I danced, for so long. I pioneered meth humour. I slept with too many people I don’t like, and kept most of them a secret.  I made more friends, though I didn’t need anymore. I grew closer to those who matter, fell out with those who didn’t. I got significantly more dumb. I read a lot of gorgeous books. I only menstruated three times and one of them was most certainly a miscarriage. I didn’t watch many movies. I started drinking coffee again. I learnt to choose happiness, I learnt to be alone. I evolved. I can’t explain any of this the way I want. Everything I put down is merely a ghost of how I felt. Most of all I wish this silly attempt was less ‘I’ and more ‘we’. I hope I don’t feel like that this year.

Nick: I could tell you what I feel about Blixa?
Blixa: I wanna hear it.
Nick: To me, Blixa Bargeld is immutable, god-like. I mean, he is my tower of strength. I'm neurotic, confused, paranoid, Blixa Bargeld is my tower of strength. He's got me through many hard times.
Blixa: [falls on table]

canadaaustin:

(Source: marlak)

Morning

I’ve got to tell you how I love you always I think of it on grey mornings with death

in my mouth the tea is never hot enough then and the cigarette dry the maroon robe

chills me I need you and look out the window at the noiseless snow

At night on the dock the buses glow like clouds and I am lonely thinking of flutes

I miss you always when I go to the beach the sand is wet with tears that seem mine

the parking lot is crowded and I stand rattling my keys the car is empty as a bicycle

what are you doing now where did you eat your lunch and were there lots of anchovies it

is difficult to think of you without me in the sentence you depress me when you are alone

Last night the stars were numerous and today snow is their calling card I’ll not be cordial

there is nothing that distracts me music is only a crossword puzzle do you know how it is

when you are the only passenger if there is a place further from me I beg you do not go

— 

(Source: theweightofemptiness)

(Source: bilbobaggins)

I’m not brave any more darling.

I’m all broken.

They’ve broken me.

— Ernest Hemingway (via if-you-love-me)

Life both does and does not matter. It matters sometimes.

theweightofemptiness

There are two stupid things about this:
1) this is half my shit and I’m only going away for two nights
2) I had to eat heaps of gas to get this organised

When your only female character exists to be battered and abused, that is lazy writing. When you raise the stakes by threatening a woman with rape, that is lazy writing. When you demonstrate the “seriousness” of a situation by describing a brutal rape, that is lazy writing. When you inject emotion into a flagging scene by making the man throw the woman against the wall, that is lazy writing. Not only is it lazy writing, but when rape is used lightly and cheaply as a convenient narrative device, it hurts people.

— 

Monica Byrne.

Zing.

(via mehreenkasana)

Word. Being a feminist alienates me from 99.9% of TV/movies.

petitpoulailler:

kaching: Toddler’s Brain: An Accurate map

before the rot. only briefly do we experience purity.

Everybody who really wants to knows what’s true. Most people just don’t want to. It means listening from deep inside. Most people just don’t want to. But the special people listen. You can hear what’s true, inside. Listen. You can always hear it. In the rain. In the static between stations. In the magnetic whisper on tapes, right before the music starts. And in that sound that utter, complete silence has, in your ears—that glittered tinkle, like tiny chimes at great hearts. I believe I know you, and that you’re probably special. The chances are good that you’re a born listener.

— David Foster Wallace, from: “Westward the Course of Empire Takes Its Way,” from the collection Girl With Curious Hair (via hateshiploveship)

(Source: lawyerupasshole)

fuck off.

dry up.

vanish.

don’t come to

my door

with pizza

pussy

or offers of peace.

(Source: henrycharlesbukowski)

I have not had enough sleep in a very long time and I have absolutely no capacity left to deal with imbeciles.

(Source: g-u-i-l-l-o-t-i-n-e)