Untitled

[everythingfox]

All aboard the guinea express

(via)

[nemophilies-deactivated20190428]

A list of my favorite poetic films: The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1928) The Man Who Sleeps (Bernard Queysanne, 1974) Letter Never Sent (Mikhail Kalatozov, 1960) The Turin Horse (Bela Tarr, 2011) Satantango (Bela Tarr, 1994) Werckmeister Harmonies (Bela Tarr, 2000) Mirror (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1975) Nostalgia (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1983) The Holy Mountain (1973, Alejandro Jodorowsky) Three Colors: Blue (Krzystof Kieslowski, 1993) The Double Life of Veronique (Krzystof Kieslowski, 1991) The Ten Commandments (Krzysztof Kieślowski, 1989) Pictures of the Old World (Dušan Hanák, 1972) The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Robert Wiene, 1920) Persona (Ingmar Bergman, 1966) Koridorius (Sharunas Barthas, 1995) Taste of Cherry (Abbas Kiarostami, 1997) The Color of Pomegranates (Sergei Parajanov, 1969) The Spirit of the Beehive (Victor Erice, 1973) The Gospel According to Matthew (Pier Paolo Pasolini, 1964) Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring (Kim Ki-duk, 2003) Woman in the Dunes (Hiroshi Teshigahara, 1964) Meshes of the Afternoon (Maya Deren, 1943) Still Life (Zhangke Jia, 2006) The Exterminating Angel (Luis Bunuel, 1962) Koyaanisqatsi (Godfrey Reggio, 1982) Wings of Desire (Wim Wenders, 1987) Raise the Red Lantern (Yimou Zhang, 1991) Kes (Ken Loach, 1969) The Human Condition (Masaki Kobayashi, 1959-1961) Diary of a Country Priest (Robert Bresson, 1951) Land of Silence and Darkness (Werner Herzog, 1971) Aguirre: The Wrath of God (Werner Herzog, 1972) Dreams (Akira Kurosawa, 1990) Embrace of the Serpent (Ciro Guerra, 2015) Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (Sergei Parajanov, 1964) La Jetée (Chris Marker, 1962) Sans Soleil (Chris Marker, 1983) Last Year at Marienbad (Alain Resnais, 1961) Marketa Lazarová (Frantisek Vlácil, 1967) Chungking Express (Wong Kar-wai, 1994) Eternity and a Day (Theodoros Angelopoulos, 1998) Ulysses’ Gaze (Theodoros Angelopoulos, 1995) Eclipse (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1962) Red Desert (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1964)

[headspace-hotel]

I think part of the reason why we feel so sad is that we're too far away from raw, numinous experiences. Like you know that post with a picture of the unpolluted night sky where people are reacting in terrified awe not realizing that's what the stars really look like?

I think it's like. You need vivid experiences that can't be easily repeated. You need elemental things. I don't mean this in a crunchy hippie just-try-yoga way I mean this in a way that's like...we're inside all the time and most things we experience are scheduled ahead of time. When there are sidewalks, we follow them, and there's always some boring place to go. You need things that no one has any control over and that no one can sell for money.

You need to be outside in a storm and see lightning strike very close to you. You need to meet a wild creature and have to stand very still and almost not even breathe and watch before it vanishes. You need to be alone somewhere very big. You need to go to a place because it looks interesting and be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You need to climb over a fence instead of going in by the gate. You need to hear the exploding sound of a huge flock of birds flying. You need to watch live theater performed by kids on a low budget. You need to be lost somewhere. You need to be barefoot somewhere. You need to sing with other people who are singing. You need to get soaking wet with all of your clothes on and come inside shivering.

[twinnedpeaks]

hi bestie can u recommend me a longg list of books to read? i’ll read anything you recommend (im desperate and a whore for book recs)

of COURSE heres a list of all my favourites and if u want more i can post more (;

fav books lol:

the secret history, donna tartt

the goldfinch, donna tartt

the virgin suicides, jeffrey eugenides

the idiot, fyodor dostoyevsky

sharp objects, gillian flynn

maurice, e. m. forster

the graveyard book, neil gaiman

good omens, neil gaiman & terry pratchett

just kids, patti smith

slaughterhouse five, kurt vonnegut

on earth we’re briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong

the waves, virginia woolf

the melancholy death of oyster boy, tim burton

the master and margarita, mikhail bulgakov

my year of rest and relaxation, ottessa moshfegh

the bell jar, sylvia plath

ninth house, leigh bardugo

giovanni’s room, james baldwin

the trials, franz kafka

millennium trilogy, stieg larsson

six of crows, leigh bardugo

the picture of dorian gray, oscar wilde

these violent delights, micah nemerever

convenience store woman, sayaka murata

invisible monsters, chuck palahniuk

the vegetarian, han kang

choke, chuck palahniuk

nightbitch, rachel yoder

[malisoun-deactivated20200727]

How do you fall back in love with life?

clean your room.  clean space, uncluttered space, space that doesn’t have miasma clinging to it can work wonders.  clean the dishes.  sweep.  take out the trash.  peel the clothes off the floor and wash them, and then actually fold/hang them.  take a long shower.  scrub behind your knees.  brush your teeth.  (this can be utterly exhausting, but try to get it done in a day, if you can.  the end result is worth it.)

pull out your notebook.  it doesn’t need to be a new notebook, but preferably one that you don’t usually write in, or that you haven’t touched in a while.  fuck moleskins.  the yellow legal pad will work fine.  sit in your room, or in the park, or in the library, and write a list.  count clouds.  describe all the colors that you see, and note patterns that arise.  sketch the cracks in the walls.  note the shape light makes when it enters a space.  talk about what the air tastes like, smells like.  what sounds are there?  even the white nose, break that down: air planes, fans, cicadas, anything.  remind yourself that you are sitting in the middle of a space brimming with detail.  remind yourself that you are not in nothingness and emptiness.  your world is fathomless.  it has potential.

drink cold water and try to eat something that isn’t processed.  it does not need to be fancy.  buy yourself an apple with the change between your couch cushions.  eat it outside.  if you’re someone who walks, walk somewhere afterwards, just to stretch your legs.  take your fucking meds.  remember that its a good thing that you are inside your body.  your body is a fantastic and endlessly intricate machine, and even though society has smacked a bunch of poisonous ideas on it, that doesn’t change its inherent worth and splendor.  take care of it.

read a novel.  underline your favorite lines, and write phrases that twist your heart inside your chest on the back of your hand with an ink pen.  read a novel like it’s poetry.  read poetry, something decadent but unpretentious.  watch a movie you haven’t seen before.  if there are free art galleries near you, walk through one.  take your time.  let yourself bask.  if there are patterns in what makes your soul ache, write those patterns down – marbles arches or soot crumbling bricks or dandelions or descriptions of dresses or whatever it is, write them down.

your chosen family is important.  remember, they picked you as much as you picked them.  the love has no obligation.  it is given freely and it is given from a place of compassion.  you are not a burden.  if you need to breathe, take a minute by yourself and just exist, but remember to go back to your people.  when they need you, listen and be gracious.  always be gracious.  the universe sometimes remembers things like that.

listen to new music.  link jump on youtube or related artist jump on spotify or ask the chap beside you in the cafe what their favorite band is, and listen to that.  listen to something that you don’t usually listen to.  we tend to tie up a lot of memory with music.  we are falling in love again.  the soundtrack needs to be specific to that.  

allow yourself to indulge in romantics.  press flowers in old books.  play movies with subtitles and mouth the words.  dance in your room.  wear something that makes you feel good, even if you wouldn’t wear it in public.  write your chosen family letters, even if you hand deliver them.  write poetry, even awful poetry.  revel in its awfulness.  eat dark chocolate and when your chosen family want to go out, try to go out with them sometimes, even if its just to the market.  

[linkinmoon]

Kahlil Gibran, from Beloved Prophet: The love letters of Kahlil Gibran and Marry Haskell, and her private journal

[kellymagovern]

The Wisdom of Trauma (2021) dir. Maurizio Benazzo, Zaya Benazzo

[rednines]

This is Dr. Gabor Maté speaking in this clip

[linkinmoon]

I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was - I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn't scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost.

- Jack Kerouac, On the Road

[weltenwellen]

Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

[homunculus-argument]

Apparently most animals do not experience the uncanny valley, and that's largely a human thing? So that is a Human Thing. Imagine telling that to another sapient, intelligent species.

"Yeah we like seeing signs of intelligence in other life forms, pack bond with literally any non-hostile animal and will definitely feel bad for a discarded apple if someone draws a sad face on it, but if something is clearly trying to mimic being a human, and gets too close to getting it right, we can instantly detect it and get an urge to either destroy it or get as far away from it as we can."

"So you can tell if something that looks identical to a human isn't actually human? How?"

"I don't know. We just know."

"How?"

"It's fucking creepy."

[soracities]

“The problem of living. The problem of living in spite of it all. The problem of changing the larger world if we can’t change ourselves. The problem of changing ourselves, if we can’t change the larger world. The problem of existing in this world anyway. The problem of not existing.”

— — Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore, from The Freezer Door (via lifeinpoetry)

[enflurane]

cooking is literally one of the best things you can do for your Brain... and more specifically cooking with care and creativity. like, using a multitude of senses all at once: your taste your smell your tactile sense... not even speaking of the dimension of Problem Solving & the joy you get from finding a perfect balance of tastes or figuring out how to level up your dish... cooking gives you the perfect opportunity to practice awareness, knowing what’s going on around you and how you can affect that. when you are making food you are literally simultaneously creating the world around you, practicing care and awareness... like literally creating a Thing that everyone needs for survival yet you can consume for pleasure and share with your loved ones? i’m here for it...

[changan-moon]

方向 Fang Xiang

[charlesoberonn]

Asking what happened “before the Big Bang” is like asking what’s south of the south pole or below the center of the Earth.

The Big Bang is the earliest point in time. There is no before it.

That’s not to say there was nothing before the Big Bang, just like there isn’t nothing south of the south pole. It’s just a meaningless question.

Every point on Earth besides the south pole itself is north of the south pole, and similarly, every point in time is after the Big Bang.

[loish]

Here’s a quick study of a beautiful sunrise I saw in the Belgian Ardennes last month ~ I had to draw each separate stage! I used to hate mornings but I’ve gotten addicted to moments like these. 

[bluesunsilversea]

[bakwaaas]

After a period of sadness, happiness doesn’t jump into your life.

it grows back slowly in the crevasses of your soul, like small plants which sprout in cracked concrete;

it creeps softly up to you until eventually it’s walking by your side, so quietly you barely even notice.