"I had decided to allow no room in the universe for something which shamed and frightened me. I succeeded very well—by not looking at the universe, by not looking at myself, by remaining, in effect, in constant motion."
- James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room (via climbthestacks)

(via adifferentaspect)

Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)

by Arcade Fire

These days my life I feel it has no purpose
But late at night the feelings swim to the surface

'Cause on the surface the city lights shine
They’re calling at me, come and find your kind

(via reginechassagne)

realityayslum:

Hans Bellmer - Portrait of Nora Mitrani, late 1940s.

Reversibility, numbers, permutations, algebra, unconfessed emotional constants.  But the body undressed in the sights of love, but the woman without her image ignore them.  Should Bellmer encounter them in his games and anatomical constructions, he simultaneously contradicts:
— Nature:  not the supple and hot child of desire, but the blind, utilitarian brute; he reinvents it back to front, according to the laws of a constructed and calculated marvellous
— Geometry:  not its rigour, but the rational and commercial uses of this rigour;  he condemns it to renounce the uncertainties of love
— And love itself:  not the pathetic aspect of hopeless love, but its defense mechanisms, the continual temptations of escape;  he compels it … to recompose itself, from the provocative sham of ‘being the target’ to the real, tangible anatomical image of tenderness, burning with impossibility.
Nora Mitrani, Rose with the Violet Heart (Rose au cœur violet), 1947.

… from SURREALISM: desire unbound, edited by Jennifer Mundy, Princeton University Press, 2011.

realityayslum:

Hans Bellmer - Portrait of Nora Mitrani, late 1940s.

Reversibility, numbers, permutations, algebra, unconfessed emotional constants.  But the body undressed in the sights of love, but the woman without her image ignore them.  Should Bellmer encounter them in his games and anatomical constructions, he simultaneously contradicts:

— Nature:  not the supple and hot child of desire, but the blind, utilitarian brute; he reinvents it back to front, according to the laws of a constructed and calculated marvellous

— Geometry:  not its rigour, but the rational and commercial uses of this rigour;  he condemns it to renounce the uncertainties of love

— And love itself:  not the pathetic aspect of hopeless love, but its defense mechanisms, the continual temptations of escape;  he compels it … to recompose itself, from the provocative sham of ‘being the target’ to the real, tangible anatomical image of tenderness, burning with impossibility.


Nora Mitrani, Rose with the Violet Heart (Rose au cœur violet), 1947.

… from SURREALISM: desire unbound, edited by Jennifer Mundy, Princeton University Press, 2011.

drakontomalloi:

Hans Bellmer - Between Two Waters. 1968

drakontomalloi:

Hans Bellmer - Between Two Waters. 1968

surrealism:

Etude d’après La mitrailleuse en état de grâce (A study of a machine gun in a state of grace) by Hans Bellmer, c.1962. crayon and colored pencil on paper, 21.9 × 16.8 cm.

surrealism:

Etude d’après La mitrailleuse en état de grâce (A study of a machine gun in a state of grace) by Hans Bellmer, c.1962. crayon and colored pencil on paper, 21.9 × 16.8 cm.

astrorgasm:

Angel’s Egg (1985) dir. Mamoru Oshii

Tenshi no Tamago(Angel’s Egg), Mamoru Oshii

Sleep Apnea (demo)

by Beach Fossils

geistt:

Beach Fossils - Sleep Apnea (Demo)

why did I used to run on the treadmill with this song on repeat

(via murmurami)

Bed is where I should’ve been during most moments of my life. Bed is where I end up scattering around to too many places that I wouldn’t name, wouldn’t recall as I would veer from one stop to another, even when I was made in oath of instilling myself to one stop, one road, and one station

full circle

The conspicuous stomping, which I later discovered lied somewhere underneath the thin layers of my chest, kept me from staying afloat, awake and asleep. I did not forget. I couldn’t forget. I am not them. They are nothing but my past and the account of my present. I didn’t stop to abstain from breathing. I, perhaps, just began to yearn for different shades of morning sun. I didn’t think I was meant to explain myself. I forgot that I was meant to do anything. No. I just wasn’t meant to do anything.
Eruptions were always meant to be timed, clocked, predestined, professed just as sleeping tides were meant to not refrain from reaching out to their unfaithful moon.
I often wrote to myself about myself being reluctant with writing, like a reflected image pondering the side which bore the more truth. I don’t cringe when the quantity of my execution of words often gets associated with the status of my wellbeing, as I often would with other aspects of my life. I need words to remain steady. I need them to be present, whenever I cannot in other worldly instances.
It’s just that
my insecurities and doubts have taken turns from hiding
in the clashing corners of my squared room.

I am not leaving. Painting your blue ocean yellow does not have to mean anymore than it should. It doesn’t mean that you’re leaving earth for another.

full circle

Reminder: You won’t grow momentarily or in phases. You cannot grow up the same way you forget. You won’t remember how you felt last night because most likely you’ll wake up forgetting about it again. 

full circle

It is a burning ciggerate,

your soul,

I’ve seen it blow

itself out through the air

to be used, 

to be stomped, 

to be squandered, 

to be stoned into ashes, 

against soft skin.

When is growth, 

when is growth in spring, 

when is growth in spring of June

To save you from your

self, from me, from them, from him, from her, 

from it, 

to be saved is to be needless 

to be saved is to be needless, 

to be resecued is to be present

there, but not here

just always there 

but never here.

You would remember

against the closing walls 

the dying suns, 

you would remember 

that under these garments 

skins and flesh 

beyond nakedness, nudity or embrace 

that we know 

nothing

better than those that knew of

nothing.  

note: loading more posts will reset any filters applied
More