#the past

[mintychocoice]

A little sneak-peak on a video I'm working on (one of the three frames)

[theamandacollection67]

[todayontumblr]

Friday, January 26.

Home Movies.

These are movies made at home, 'tis pretty simple. Or is it? Because these films have a way of capturing a moment in time that is then altogether unremarkable. But it is in the passing of time that they are bestowed with new meaning, melancholy, and resonance.   The exact same few moments of footage—a view over a lake, an affectionate moment with a pet, or a snippet from a holiday—can become an entirely different viewing in several years. Watching them becomes an entirely different experience, and what is felt in watching them is equally unexpected. Films of seemingly very little can become, quite by accident, something a little poignant. Even profound. They are movies that you make yourself, and are made into something entirely different.

So, here are some #home movies. And if the weight of the inevitable passing of time gets too intense, we suggest you take a time out with something a bit lighter, like #tennis or something. 

[mournfulroses]

Lázaro Santana, translated by Constance Sullivan, from a poem titled "The Past,"

[sl8tersstuff]

Every night I mourn you and who you were; who I was and who I will never be.

[1five1two]

[blackswaneuroparedux]

I’ve always been an independent radical, but with wide streaks of emotional and cultural old-fashionedness. I have enormous respect for many human institutions that are now in serious decay and likely never to be revived. Although I’m what is called a progressive, it isn’t out of dislike for the past. I don’t reject our yesterdays. I wish that parts of our dead past were more alive.

- Orson Welles

[mythologyofblue]

"What's past is written in stone. What's next is written in water." -Lauren Wolk, Beyond the Bright Sea

[theamandacollection67]

1935 Utah

[todayontumblr]

Wednesday June 7.

The 1990s. It was the best of times, it was the best of times...

Ahh... the 90s. What a time to be alive. People often throw around the phrase "Halycon Days", but believe you me, the 90s was the real Halyconian deal. It was a time of peace, prosperity. Simpler times, you may say, awash with simple pleasures, the promise of "The World Wide Web", and a little start-up called Starbucks. People thought Furbies were spying on them, AOL Instant Messenger revolutionized the way we communicate, and Alanis Morissette wrote a hit song, "Ironic", which misunderstood irony. It was the golden era of the shopping mall, in which parents purchased exciting new electrical goods in the latest fruitless attempt to heal their gaping spiritual void, as teens on skateboards, with tufts of hair sprouting through their backward-facing caps, loitered around outside blowing gum and wearing black t-shirts with skulls on them.

For reasons unbeknownst to us, #the 1990s is trending, and we are here *clap* for *clap* it *clap*. *ouch*

[acre-of-wheat]

Jade hadn't wanted to invite Kit over for a sleepover. There's no good way to introduce someone with a four poster, a custom made indoor fabric tent, and a combo daybed-window reading nook to a twin bed with sheets that are pilly from being washed too many times and a carpet that has the scratchy plastic texture of material that had been popular before Jade was born. Jade hadn't wanted to and Jade hadn't . Kit had invited herself.

Tanthamore Fanfic AO3 Link Here

[baringmysoul]

[silent-insanities]

Let the past be forgotten.

[healingviawords]

Letting go of what we can't control is accepting that while we can drive our own boat, the ocean may have other plans. While we can fly our own kite, the wind will still decide how high it can soar. It's about finding peace in the fact that our book of life will be an incredible masterpiece, but not all of its chapters will be written by us.

[motheyesofnight]

(from "An Artist")

An artist is not who's beautiful.

An artist is who makes a mess.

I have a poor mind and always struggled with grasping causality.

Instead of writing, made a mess.

Instead of an artist, became a pathetic fool.

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

Certain things I remember exactly as they were. They are merely discolored a bit by time, like coins in the pocket of a forgotten suit. Most of the details, though, have long since been transformed or rearranged to bring others of them forward. Some, in fact, are obviously counterfeit; they are no less important. One alters the past to form the future.

James Salter, A Sport and a Pastime