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Sunday Night

Let's dive into the Deeper annals of bullshit At 4 am on a Sunday night.

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Leftover Fried Onion Rings

Left over Fried Onion rings. It stays stuck To the layer of thin plastic, To be pulled off. It stinks Of being left as is, Of not being savoured. It's golden brown And tastes like nothing else. But it's in a dustbin.

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Run

I want to run away, from this lie, that i fear, will come true. I want to hide, from you, from my self, from memory. I want to see, you, and me, you and me, or none of us. I want to run away, from this lie, that I fear, has come true already. I want to complete this sentence that you started, and let it stay hanging, by the comma. I want to be loved -  like the wind and the sun and the waters who want to feel me - by you. I want to be seen -  fuck the recognizer, fuck the commentator, -  by you. But wants are stupid, governed by habits, heightened by longing, killed by nature. I need something, anything, proximity perhaps, or perhaps distance. I want to be an idiot, or a self-obsessed genius -  a perspective, where you do not belong. Past poses and Future stares, but the Present asks, and all I have is silence and tears, everything but an answer. Someone, Anyone, take me to the place where I shout and cry away to peace, where I purge myself of this passing love, where I kill this burden of longing. I want to run away, from this deceit of closeness, from this ignorance, from you, or me.

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COMMA

How long is one to wait for the void to be transposed, for the message to arrest its gait and leave one’s disposition unopposed. Is there a white light, a gush of wind on the shore? Will a resounding wave, an unexpected flight take one to the place that was before? Before, before & after, What separates them and binds? Where is the line and what thereafter will make the present seem aligned? Memory is as cruel as wondrous; a tear for the irreversible, a smile for the attained. Straight lines meet planes incongruous – a narrative broken, a still stained. Senses are as I as you; a touch too far, a sound too low, a kiss to miss, a smell to remember, a light to fade, a love to glow. Is the earthworm one, when split in two? Is this the same wave that receded then? Where did the one-winged bird fly to? Does the tree not shed a tear in autumn? I see her, with me, not present, drawn into the tunnel of light, with a smile that stops before it’s sent, and eyes as still as the lull of night. Silence can be spoken to, not answered, can be distracted, not swept away. Tears can be soaked in skin and fibre, not arrested, just led astray. I know the raven’s only answer. I know what years of love can make. But I know not the right moment, if ever, to accept the sand and let the sun smile away.

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Wilde, Aestheticism, Pleasure & Pain

1874: "I find it harder and harder every day to live up to my blue china."

1899: "My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One of us has got to go."

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"Everything is planned"

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Corey Taylor & Jim Root

for forkyougood & sexyjesterhands

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I, She & The Unknown

I see her Waiting - From the time I leave her, Alone, Till the moment She, In a haste, Slams open, My daylong Longing, The smile is a cheer Is a relief -       Counting time.  Like the stack  Of questions, And their broken crumbs,       Are just half a moment away From letting go Of the root That she didn't Let grow Otherwise.

Her Fickle go-to Frequented My Fickle go-to With the tenacity Of a dreading Mother. Sometimes.

And then, She jumped.

Into the unkown, Into the desired.

With an unrealized hint Within That her composed self Might just fly away, That the air now is Truer than fresh, That realizations Hold the key To possibilities.

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I See her Waiting - From the time I leave alone To the time I leave alone, Till the moment She, After a bout Of semi-forced compulsions, Opens my daylong Longing, The smile is a cheer Is a relief - Counting time. Like a flurry Of questions, And their whipped sweetness, Are just Half a moment away From letting go Of the star Of her dreams That's coming closer Otherwise.

My Fickle go-to Frequented Her Composed go-to With the anguish Of a losing Monarch. Sometimes.

And then, I submerged.

Into the calmness of Her eyes, That I could All but desire,

With a realization Within That her deeper self Is an ocean, Vast and all encompassing, That she'd swallowed Her questions To see the existence Of the unknown.

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Her presence Perplexed me, Her absence Is making me, Her presence Awaits me.

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The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you.

Pulp Fiction (1994)

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John Edward, the biggest douche in the universe 【1/2】

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Favorite directors | Quentin Tarantino

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Satyajit Ray designing, rehearsing, shooting, editing, and scoring his films from the late 1960s through the 1980s as captured by photographer Nemai Ghosh.

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Filmmakers as children — 1: Carl Theodor Dreyer, Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Spike Lee 2: David Cronenberg, Kinuyo Tanaka, Sergei Eisenstein 3: Glauber Rocha, Věra Chytilová, Krzysztof Kieślowski 4: Shuji Terayama, Guru Dutt, Buster Keaton 5: Mohsen Makhmalbaf, Orson Welles, Jia Zhangke 6: Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Pier Paolo Pasolini, Agnès Varda 7: Sergei Parajanov, Larisa Shepitko, Ritwik Ghatak

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Brand Planners

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Trippiest blog on Tumblr!

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EXCERPTS >|< Donkey kicking (1887)

 | Hosted at: Flickr  | From: Boston Public Library  | Download: 1500x1206 jpeg  | Digital Copy: Public Domain

An animated GIF of a donkey kicking, created from Plate 658 by Eadweard Muybridge (1887) in Animal locomotion : an electro-photographic investigation of consecutive phases of animal movements, 1872-1885. 

The Donkey GIF by E. Muybridge will be soon available on our handmade analog GIF player, The Giphoscope.