June 2011
“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that...”
– Edith Wharton (via proustitute)
New Steven Wilson solo album teaser is up. I am extremely excited for it’s release. That man can do no wrong.
“I felt so empty as I cried, like part of me had died”
Ya casi me voy
Donde estaras, en la mananita?
Quando el sol no te puede ver
Quando las estrellas lloran luz, calladistas y devil, por el tiempo que te pierdo
Y cuando el dios sin milagro te parese enfrente de ti
Mi amigo viejo, amado, perdido
Donde estaras?
The Tradition British Canon; alas, I do believe that I am indeed quite fucked come the morrow’s examination.
“Yesternight the sun went hence / And yet is here today”
- John Donne
I love old English.
And among the smiles and laugher jaggedly permeating the room, an eerie stillness descended upon me; it became quite clear to me then, that everyone sitting there, gayly animated and seemingly at ease, were somewhere cold and alone, easily a thousand miles from one another.
“I measure every grief I meet
With analytic eyes;
I wonder if it weighs...”
– Emily Dickinson, from “CXVI” (via proustitute)
“Someone, and no matter where, collects the pieces of my shadow.”
– Claude Esteban, from “[Someone, and no matter],” trans. Joanne Mackowski (via proustitute)
“When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs...”
– Franz Kafka (adapted from sostrangehere)
Contemplating my financial struggles while listening to Money - Pink Floyd.
Pandora Radio does not have Bass Communion. I am aghast with contempt and disapproval. For shame, Pandora, for being ignorant to such a spiritual and inter dimensional musical phenomenon such as Bass Communion; for shame.
“-no, she thought, one could say nothing to nobody. The urgency of the moment...”
– Virginia Woolf
All nighters are quite simply the best experience of any college career.
Linguists Are (Usually) People, Too!: 100 Most... →
fuckyeahsocialthought:
Ailurophile A cat-lover.
Assemblage A gathering.
Becoming Attractive.
Beleaguer To exhaust with attacks.
Brood To think alone.
Bucolic In a lovely rural setting.
Bungalow A small, cozy cottage.
Chatoyant Like a cat’s eye.
Comely Attractive.
Conflate…
Officially so,
Words loaf through the weary air
Exhausted after supporting the weight of the year;
Nearing the end, the grasp wavers
And momentarily vanishes
So that for a split second
The past, present and future come into view
And in a marvelous temporal landscape
Understanding manifests,
Lucid and crystalline,
Into a light;
Outside space and time
It is forever visible,
Shining...
“A man in a desert can hold absence in his cupped hands knowing it is something...”
– Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient (via weissewiese) 