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Combat of Centaurs, Odilon Redon

TRIBOLO, Niccolò The Goddess of Nature c. 1529 Marble Musée National du Château, Fontainebleau

A spring or two ago, we made a rice dish with rose petals I grew

When I was spiraling I spiral still And everything has slowed to me But everything presses on at a real pace outside of me No one has slowed for me

A framed reference hangs above me from a beam A mirror As a friend Keens

violentwavesofemotion-deactivat

I felt that everything was going grey and colourless around me. I had a feeling of irreparable loss. My curiosity still found matter on which to feed but there were no more fresh and blinding revelations. And yet reality was abundantly present all around me; the mistake I made was in not attempting to penetrate it. I boxed it up in more or less outworn systems or myths. Life was moving in a circle because I was.

Simone de Beauvoir, from The Prime of Life: The Autobiography of Simone de Beauvoir; 1929-1944 (via violentwavesofemotion)

I just realize I will always be the Virgin until I meet her

To set out a conceptual blueprint for an album, and follow it meticulously and unerringly, seems like building a model airplane—something with no life. I always feel bound to make some concession to Providence, whether worshipful or superstitious—the source of unborn life, in humanity and the humanities.

Joanna Newsom, BOMB, July 2011

As much as I dislike the tired comparison of songs to one’s children, I do think the futility of my 'planning' a record is similar to the futility of choosing the hair color and gender of one’s unborn child.

Joanna Newsom, BOMB, July 2011