Written for myself.
[a night blog]
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Tonight my heart is a little bit cold.
Not the bad or painful kind, not the sort of blowing wind that goes from biting to aching, takes fingers from freezing to numb. The still winter snow kind, dimly lit by windows behind me and opening onto empty infinity. Bright blackness, chilly but tantalizing loneliness that sends signals down my spine. I’m listening to music and failing to work and thinking. And I’m thinking about futures and endings and solitude. And I really can’t decide whether I would prefer the decadent indulgence of being alone or the shiver of a human touch on my bare shoulder. And I’m wondering whether I have to choose. I wonder if I’m hurting the people who care, enjoying the contact but inside maintaining my separation, so that I can still feel the wind of the wilderness, so I can still marvel at standing alone in the emptiness.
But I’m still a bastard, and poetry provides no excuses.
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RAWR: "The thrill is in the chase..." →
“…never in the capture.”
I realized recently that to some extent this age-old adage holds some truth, but I’m still not quite sure why. But the tension and fire between people before things become certain and therefore settled is to me so much more beautiful than the…
I missed your reply until now. Thanks for saying what you did, because I actually agree completely. You and Beck to me represent the fucking beautiful antithesis of everything I was railing against, and I really love you for it.
Source: insomnimaniacal
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“The thrill is in the chase…”
“…never in the capture.”
I realized recently that to some extent this age-old adage holds some truth, but I’m still not quite sure why. But the tension and fire between people before things become certain and therefore settled is to me so much more beautiful than the obligation that tends all too often to cement itself in place of passion once the feelings have been spoken for.
Fuck calling people an “item.” Never stop thinking of yourself as individuals.
A few weeks ago I watched the movie Melancholia and needed to write.
Man. I just watched the movie Melancholia. It is, one could say, an artsy film, so it was a little bit silly and unjustifiable at points throughout, but overall I thought it was a pretty intense experience. The thing is, it fucked me up a lot more than I expected it to. I gather that the point of it was to sort of watch the characters and how they are affected as they are approached with the inevitable in the form of a planetary collision. But by the time the end reaches them, everybody has already fallen apart. In the first part the protagonist is a mess the entire time. Her husband is barely even a character, neglected during basically the entirety of their wedding. The father is absent-minded, the mother downright absent-hearted, and bitter. Their marriage, it seems, fell apart ages before, and so does their daughter’s. By the end of the second part, we realize that the protagonist has known what would happen the entire time, and her reaction has been to disappoint her wedding guests and her husband, and ultimately become every bit as bitter as her mother was. Her sister is the most likeable character, and she spends her last days distressed and trying to care for the protagonist. She is almost the last to know what’s happening. Her husband, the astronomer trying to be confident despite a seed of doubt, has killed himself as an alternative to going in the collision before she figures out that the planet is on its way back. But she isn’t quite the last. The saddest character by far is the son, never really understanding, and when the end comes the protagonist tries to comfort him with make-believe, apparently the only person she gives a damn about. His lack of understanding is the worst part.
I don’t want to give the impression that this movie will affect my mood for any significant period of time, at least in any particularly noticeable way. But it was tragedy without catharsis. It just felt bad.
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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]Day 7: Your Favorite Piece of Music
perfectly suited.
I watched like two seasons of new Who in the last week, it’s been a good break.
Source: iwearabowtienow
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Even when I didn’t sleep all night, it still feels like there’s no time in the day.
Still here guys
Received a spam message today and realized that of the things in my inbox, two were spam and one was a response to a question I asked somebody else. Figured it’s time to start writing things on here again or this will end up becoming another one of those accounts, the ones you only post on every once in a really rare while to either apologize for your inactivity or make a massive all-at-once update that makes you feel less guilty about it. It just so happens that college is really busy though. Promise I’ll continue to add everything that I write, and actually when I write it. It won’t be in this post though, because mixing topics in a post kind of bugs me. This is the “yes I’m still here” post, the “this is what’s happened in the time I was gone” post comes later. And after that hopefully I’ll have more writing. <3
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I sat down to start writing a book tonight. My first thought, as it happens, was “God, I wish I were more drunk right now.” Not because I don’t want to do the writing. Just because I’ve never written anything drunk before.
(Unrelated feeling, sorry.)
Source: thefoodbl0g
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