Sem título

[some-velvet-morning]

[kendallroyscoke]

Nicole Kidman (1995)

[funeral]

Moreover, we work in a limited-attention economy . . . , as most people broadcast more than they receive. Different aspiring exemplars must compete for the approval of a highly inattentive crowd. Social interactions become a complex, competitive game of pride, envy and ambition, where the stake is survival—survival . . . meaning retention of identity. Influencing others becomes integral to its goal. Not only does this lead to rivalry and conflict; it leads to frustration. What we wanted was our own identity. What we keep finding is somebody else's, and maintaining it feels less like self-expression than pandering to the crowd. [Those who threaten our identity] take the blame for a failure whose real explanation lies in the fundamental inconsistency of our aim. They remind us of the embarrassing arbitrariness of what we take to be essential—of our ontological unoriginality, our essential emptiness.

Alexander Douglas, Against Identity: The Wisdom of Escaping the Self

[funeral]

Anyone who escapes the ordinary categories and distinctions by which we define ourselves and each other indirectly threatens the identities of other people, who are likely to react with a violent impulse to reenvisage this defector from the identity regime. By refusing the distinctions of prestige and status, you threaten to reveal their arbitrariness to the world, and those whose very being depends on those distinctions will fight to prevent that, without even knowing what they are doing.

Alexander Douglas, Against Identity: The Wisdom of Escaping the Self

[funeral]

It seems to me I am trying to tell you a dream—making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream-sensation, that co-mingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence of dreams [ . . . ] No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one's existence—that which makes its truth, its meaning—its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream—alone.

Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

[roadside--picnic]

[enriquemzn262]

Wow, the latest cover of the Mexican-translated version of Roadside Picnic is absolutely fantastic!

[sarkopterygia]

---from Ursula K. Le Guin's foreword to "Roadside Picnic" by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

[neopanic]

"Ищущий".

Дом не держит, а тоска сжимает душу. Адреналин - единственная пища. Край - единственное понятие. Мечта? Мечта одна...

...счастье для всех.

[uraandri]

All for one, only the Lord for all. In our age it'll do...

-Roadside Picnic, Arkady & Boris Strugatsky

(self-potrait inspired by Klimt's Nuda Veritas featuring the above mentioned quote from the serbian translation of Roadside Picnic by Arkady & Boris Strugatsky)

[pinkpancreasrot]

It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.

[yourgirlfoe]

“Fate is a placebo. The only life path: the one behind you. If, in the brief time we’re given, you can’t accept this.. well, maybe you’re not one of the few. Maybe you’re just like me. One of the many.”

[thirdity]

“If you have patience enough to search, maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of what you’re looking for. And when you find it, you’ll probably be disappointed. It isn’t the devil. It isn’t the State. It isn’t a magical child. It’s the void.”

— Roberto Bolaño, Between Parentheses

[liminalgf]

There's nothing sexier than an ultra competent economist explaining with sourced data that we should tax the riiiiich

[alwaysbeenjessica]

susan has spoken

[evaldtiii]

[badnights]

Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh

[petaltexturedskies]

Susan Sontag, Death Kit (originally published 1967)