Peter Solarz
KIROKAZE
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JBB: An Artblog!
taylor price
AnasAbdin

pixel skylines

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DEAR READER
will byers stan first human second
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

blake kathryn

Discoholic 🪩
NASA
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
we're not kids anymore.

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@redolentquotes714
Well he feels like an elephant, shaking his big grey trunk for the hell of it. He knows that you're dreamin' about being loved by him. Too bad your chances are slim... He's got friends but they got fear, wouldn't care too much if he just disappeared.
Elephant by Tame Impala
A Cloud in Trousers, Vladimir Mayakovsky
[ID: And I feel “I” is too small for me. Some other body is bursting out.]
sir, that’s my emotional support imaginary world
1. your suffering can’t end until you stop identifying with it. if your sense of self is tied up in your suffering, anyone or anything that attempts to separate you from it will become the enemy because, whether consciously or subconsciously, you will on some level believe they are trying to take away a part of who you are.
2. read the above again.
“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.”
—
Each of those under transport is a human being with a different face and mind, and at the same time each is a nameless part of the collective entity. Each is simultaneously a self-contained whole and a mere part. Handling this dualism of theirs skillfully and advantageously, they perform their morning rituals with deftness and precision: brushing teeth, shaving, tying neckties, applying lipstick. They check the morning news on TV, exchange words with their families, eat, and defecate.
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
The new day is almost here, but the old one is still dragging its heavy skirts. Just as ocean water and river water struggle against each other at a river mouth, the old time and the new time clash and blend. Takahashi is unable to tell for sure which side -- which world -- contains his center of gravity.
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
It's not as if our lives are divided simply into light and dark. There's a shadowy middle ground. Recognizing and understanding the shadows is what a healthy intelligence does. And to acquire a healthy intelligence takes a certain amount of time and effort.
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
People's memories are maybe the fuel they burn to stay alive. Whether those memories have any actual importance or not, it doesn't matter as far as the maintenance of life is concerned. They're all just fuel. Advertising fillers in the newspaper, philosophy books, dirty pictures in a magazine, a bundle of ten-thousand-yen bills; when you feed 'em to the fire, they're all just paper. The fire isn't think 'Oh, this is Kant,' or 'Oh, this is the Yomiuru evening edition,' or 'Nice tits,' while it burns. To the fire, they're nothing but scraps of paper. It's the exact same thing. Important memories, not-so-important memories, totally useless memories: there's no distinction -- they're all just fuel.
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
His mind, however, is thinking about other things. He is considering aspects of the interrelationship of thought and action. Is action merely the incidental product of thought, or is thought the consequential product of action? His eyes follow the TV image, but he is actually looking at something deep inside the screen -- something miles beyond the screen.
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
'Walk a lot; drink your water slowly.' 'That's not it,' he says. 'Walk slowly; drink lots of water.' 'One's as good as the other, I'd say.'
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
What I want to say is probably something like this: any single human being, no matter what kind of person he or she may be, is all caught up in the tentacles of this animal like a giant octopus, and is getting sucked into the darkness. You can put any kind of spin on it you like, but you end up with the same unbearable spectacle... Anyhow, that day was a turning point for me. After that I decided to study law seriously. I figured that's where I might find whatever I was looking for. Studying the law is not as much fun as making music, but what the hell, that's life. That's what it means to grow up.
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
So once I started having thoughts like this, everything began looking different to me. To my eyes, this system I was observing...began to take on the appearance of some special, weird creature... Like, say, an octopus. A giant octopus living way down deep at the bottom of the ocean. It has this tremendously powerful life force, a bunch of long undulating legs, and it's heading somewhere, moving through the darkness of the ocean. I'm sitting there listening to these trials, and all I can see in my head is this creature. It takes on all kinds of different shapes -- sometimes it's 'the nation,' and sometimes it's 'the law,' and sometimes it takes on shapes that are more difficult and dangerous than that. You can try cutting off its legs, but they just keep growing back. Nobody can kill it. It's too strong and it lives too far down in the ocean. Nobody knows where its heart is. What I felt then was a deep terror. And a kind of hopelessness, a feeling that I could never run away from this thing, no matter how far I went. And this creature, this thing doesn't give a damn that I'm me or you're you. In its presence, all human beings lose their names and their faces. We all turn into signs, into numbers.
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
'Are you planning to be a professional musician?' He shakes his head. 'I'm not that talented. I love to play, but I could never make a living at it. There's a big difference between playing well and playing really creatively. I think I'm pretty good on my instrument. People say they like my playing, and I enjoy hearing that, but that's as far as it goes. I'm gonna quit the band at the end of the month and basically but my ties with music.' 'What do you mean, 'playing really creatively? Can you give me a concrete example?' 'Hmm, let's see... You send the music deep enough into your heart so that it makes your body undergo a kind of physical shift, and simultaneously the listener's body also undergoes the same physical shift. It's giving birth to that kind of shared state. Probably.'
After Dark by Haruki Murakami
No matter how much I scream at them to make my toast as crispy as possible, I have never once gotten it the way I want it. I can't imagine why. What with Japanese industriousness and high-tech culture and the market principles that the Denny's chain is always pursuing, it shouldn't be that hard to get crispy toast, don't you think? So, why can't they do it? Of what value is a civilization that can't toast a piece of bread as ordered?
After Dark by Haruki Murakami