Entropy

"I feel numb and dumb, and unable to lay hands on any words."

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 00:05:07 -0400

“I feel numb and dumb, and unable to lay hands on any words.”

- From The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via larmoyante)

Rewind

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 20:04:48 -0400

time suddenly reverses and we watch together
as winds and rivers build mountains from dust
as islands sigh and sink back into the ocean like brooding leviathans
we erase what we wrote and forge forests from blank canvases
we excavate corpses like buried treasures born from the earth
we compress and collapse the last great cities into cravings for change

time suddenly reverses and we watch together
as portals of Polaroid people and places become pointless pieces of paper
we disentangle our desires from the raveled ropes of realization
we dust off deserted dreams and unpack them from boxes in the attic
we set them out on display for everyone to know and see

time suddenly reverses and we watch together
as scientists discover new ways to delete technological innovations
as people strive to detach themselves from their material possessions
we admire how hard everyone is working to remove all the distractions
each person playing their part in order to get back to what really matters
everyone is trying so hard to become less

time suddenly reverses and we watch together
as our moms and dads rise out of love and divorce with a handshake
as people evolve and devolve as they fade into and out of our lives
as everything continuously changes every day
for a moment we remember that life is rewinding
but then we forget

(…)

by @whatisyarvy on twitter

Stills by Martin Sichetti (via nevver)

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 18:45:32 -0400

martinsichetti.com

martinsichetti.com

martinsichetti.com

Stills by Martin Sichetti (via nevver)

"Such grief does not even want consolation; it is nourished by the sense of its unquenchableness...."

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 18:36:26 -0400

“Such grief does not even want consolation; it is nourished by the sense of its unquenchableness. Lamentations are simply the need to constantly irritate the wound.”

- The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky (via dsm296)

By JR JR owns the biggest art gallery in the world. He exhibits...

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 07:42:39 -0400

By JR

JR owns the biggest art gallery in the world.

He exhibits freely in the streets of the world, catching the attention of people who are not typical museum visitors. His work mixes Art and Act, talks about commitment, freedom, identity and limit.

"But everyone I know is either shouting or dancing around like wild or beating up one another. Do you..."

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 21:52:14 -0400

“But everyone I know is either shouting or dancing around like wild or beating up one another. Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays?””

- From Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

"At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked..."

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 21:31:03 -0400

“At the bottom of her heart, however, she was waiting for something to happen. Like shipwrecked sailors, she turned despairing eyes upon the solitude of her life, seeking afar off some white sail in the mists of the horizon. She did not know what this chance would be, what wind would bring it her, towards what shore it would drive her, if it would be a shallop or a three-decker, laden with anguish or full of bliss to the portholes. But each morning, as she awoke, she hoped it would come that day; she listened to every sound, sprang up with a start, wondered that it did not come; then at sunset, always more saddened, she longed for the morrow.”

- From Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (via larmoyante)

A Sonnet of Invented Memories

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 20:58:17 -0400

1. I told you that I was a roadway of potholes, not safe to cross. You said nothing, showed up in my driveway wearing roller-skates.

2. The first time I asked you on a date, after you hung up, I held the air between our phones against my ear and whispered, “You will fall in love with me. Then, just months later, you will fall out. I will pretend the entire time that I don’t know it’s coming.”

3. Once, I got naked and danced around your bedroom, awkward and safe. You did the same. We held each other without hesitation and flailed lovely. This was vulnerability foreplay.

4. The last eight times I told you I loved you, they sounded like apologies.

5. You recorded me a CD of you repeating, “You are beautiful.” I listened to it until I no longer thought in my own voice.

6. Into the half-empty phone line, I whispered, “We will wake up believing the worst in each other. We will spit shrapnel at each other’s hearts. The bruises will lodge somewhere we don’t know how to look for and I will still pretend I don’t know its coming.”

7. You photographed my eyebrow shapes and turned them into flashcards: mood on one side, correct response on the other. You studied them until you knew when to stay silent.

8. I bought you an entire bakery so that we could eat nothing but breakfast for a week. Breakfast, untainted by the day ahead, was when we still smiled at each other as if we meant it.

9. I whispered, “I will latch on like a deadbolt to a door and tell you it is only because I want to protect you. Really, I’m afraid that without you I mean nothing.”

10. I gave you a bouquet of plane tickets so I could practice the feeling of watching you leave.

11. I picked you up from the airport limping. In your absence, I’d forgotten how to walk. When I collapsed at your feet, you refused to look at me until I learned to stand up without your help.

12. Too scared to move, I stared while you set fire to your apartment – its walls decaying beyond repair, roaches invading the corpse of your bedroom. You tossed all the faulty appliances through the smoke out your window, screaming that you couldn’t handle choking on one more thing that wouldn’t just fix himself.

13. I whispered, “We will each weed through the last year and try to spot the moment we began breaking. We will repel sprint away from each other. Your voice will take months to drain out from my ears. You will throw away your notebook of tally marks from each time you wondered if I was worth the work. The invisible bruises will finally surface and I will still pretend that I didn’t know it was coming.”

14. The entire time, I was only pretending that I knew it was coming.

by Miles Walser

Fables by Macbeth

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 19:51:34 -0400

Fables by Macbeth

THE WRITER'S TECHNIQUE IN THIRTEEN THESES

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 21:17:00 -0400

THE WRITER'S TECHNIQUE IN THIRTEEN THESES :

1. Anyone intending to embark on a major work should be lenient with himself and, having completed a stint, deny himself nothing that will not prejudice the next.

2. Talk about what you have written, by all means, but do not read from it while the work is in progress. Every gratification procured in this way will slacken your tempo. If this regime is followed, the growing desire to communicate will become in the end a motor for completion.

3. In your working conditions avoid everyday mediocrity. Semi-relaxation, to a background of insipid sounds, is degrading. On the other hand, accompaniment by an etude or a cacophony of voices can become as significant for work as the perceptible silence of the night. If the latter sharpens the inner ear, the former acts as a touchstone for a diction ample enough to bury even the most wayward sounds.

4. Avoid haphazard writing materials. A pedantic adherence to certain papers, pens, inks is beneficial. No luxury, but an abundance of these utensils is indispensable.

5. Let no thought pass incognito, and keep your notebook as strictly as the authorities keep their register of aliens.

6.Keep your pen aloof from inspiration, which it will then attract with magnetic power. The more circumspectly you delay writing down an idea, the more maturely developed it will be on surrendering itself. Speech conquers thought, but writing commands it.

7. Never stop writing because you have run out of ideas. Literary honor requires that one break off only at an appointed moment (a mealtime, a meeting) or at the end of the work.

8. Fill the lacunae of inspiration by tidily copying out what is already written. Intuition will awaken in the process.

9. Nulla dies sine linea [‘No day without a line’] — but there may well be weeks.

10. Consider no work perfect over which you have not once sat from evening to broad daylight.

11. Do not write the conclusion of a work in your familiar study. You would not find the necessary courage there.

12. Stages of composition: idea — style — writing. The value of the fair copy is that in producing it you confine attention to calligraphy. The idea kills inspiration, style fetters the idea, writing pays off style.

13. The work is the death mask of its conception.

by Maria Popova (via nevver)

"April 27. Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of..."

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 20:52:47 -0400

“April 27. Incapable of living with people, of speaking. Complete immersion in myself, thinking of myself. Apathetic, witless, fearful. I have nothing to say to anyone - never.”

- Diaries of Franz Kafka by Franz Kafka (via journalofanobody)

This is superbly wonderful! Message me if you know the artist...

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 20:47:14 -0400

This is superbly wonderful! Message me if you know the artist please.

By Duy Huynh (via lohrien) more

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 19:29:51 -0400

By Duy Huynh (via lohrien)

Undercurrents by Michael Fragstein

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 23:44:10 -0400

Undercurrents by Michael Fragstein

"What incredible power of identification the girl had; she was like the eager watcher of a marionette..."

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 19:40:21 -0400

“What incredible power of identification the girl had; she was like the eager watcher of a marionette show, anticipating each flicker of an eyelid, each gesture of his hand, each flick of a finger, the moment before it began. How long had they walked together? Three minutes? Five? Yet how large that time seemed now. How immense a figure she was on the stage before him; what a shadow she threw on the wall with her slender body! He felt that if his eye itched, she might blink. And if the muscles of his jaws stretched imperceptibly, she would yawn long before he would.”

- From Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

"People were more often…blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other..."

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 19:37:40 -0400

“People were more often…blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people’s faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?”

- From Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

"I love her for what she has dared to be, for her hardness, her cruelty, her egoism, her..."

Sun, 31 Mar 2013 21:23:15 -0400

“I love her for what she has dared to be, for her hardness, her cruelty, her egoism, her perverseness, her demoniac destructiveness. She would crush me to ashes without hesitation. She is a personality created to the limit. I worship her courage to hurt, and I am willing to be sacrificed to it. She will add the sum of me to her.””

- By Anaïs Nin (via seabois)

"Anyone who cannot cope with life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair..."

Sun, 31 Mar 2013 21:15:21 -0400

“Anyone who cannot cope with life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate… but with his other hand he can jot down what he sees among the ruins, for he sees different and more things than the others; after all, he is dead in his own lifetime and the real survivor.”

- The Diaries of Franz Kafka, entry from October 19, 1921 by Franz Kafka (via infinitesplinters)

Dinner Is Coming (via nevver)

Sun, 31 Mar 2013 21:06:50 -0400

Dinner Is Coming (via nevver)

"There are too many of us, he thought. There are billions of us and that’s too many. Nobody..."

Thu, 21 Mar 2013 01:08:27 -0400

“There are too many of us, he thought. There are billions of us and that’s too many. Nobody knows anyone. Strangers come and violate you. Strangers come and cut your heart out. Strangers come and take your blood.”

- From Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury