29th of July 2012

Jemima Kirke is a goddess.

(Source: pclairedactyl, via gatsbyandallhisfriends)

23rd of July 2012

Adam Driver for New York Magazine.


Adam Driver for New York Magazine.

(via gatsbyandallhisfriends)

16th of May 2012

anticipatory musings…


Julia Baier via Bransch Blog

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.”
— Anais Ninnprfreshair:

Washington Arch c. 1900

"To be transformed
to turn yourself inside out like a glove
to spin like a planet
to thread yourself through yourself
so that each day penetrates each night
so that each word runs on the other side of truth
so that each verse comes out of itself
and gives off its own light
so that each face leaning on a hand
sweats into the skin of the palm

So that this pen
changes into pure silence
I wanted to say in love”

— Anna Kamieńska, from “Transformation”, in Astonishments

(via serialchillers, jasminmeyer)ysvoice:

carafe-ternoon  | by naftels | via bella-illusione


(by Steven Cody)

"I feel too much. That’s what’s going on. Do you think one can feel too much? Or just feel in the wrong ways? My insides don’t match up with my outsides. Do anyone’s insides and outsides match up? I don’t know. I’m only me. Maybe that’s what a person’s personality is: the difference between the inside and outside. But it’s worse for me. I wonder if everyone thinks it’s worse for him. Probably. But it really is worse for me."

— Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close 

fire escape as a porch. 


Monte Dodge

untitled by fletcherchancey on Flickr.

I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen.

— John Steinbeck 

post-grad checklist: swimming, lilacs, road trips, organization, kissing, loving, listening, exploring, learning, pipe dreams, books, sleeping, sleeping, sleep

fulfillment, constant, poetry, wine, frequent brunches, laura marling, singing, late nights, just kids, star-filled skies, icecream, lots of ice cream

open windows, barefoot streets, fire escape getaways, summer subways, pups, dancing


maybe a compass tattoo will help me to find it all.

18th of April 2012

Yesterday’s just a memory, tomorrow is never what it’s supposed to be.


Jeremy Daigneault

What on earth can you do on this earth but catch at whatever comes near you, with both your fingers, until your fingers are broken?

Tennessee Williams, Orpheus Descending


Anna (by Drew//)

(by heidihi)

We’re all lonely for something we don’t know we’re lonely for. How else can we explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like missing somebody we’ve never even met?

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest


breakfast! (by hokipoki)

Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don’t know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It’s a dream already ended.

Jack Kerouacfaredisfare:

René Groebli, The Eye of Love, 1954

Ondrea Barbe

Ross, Eberhard (German, born 1959)Flight 06409 2009, oil on dibond, 39 x 59

In my low periods, I wondered what was the point of creating art. For whom? Are we animating God? Are we talking to ourselves? And what was the ultimate goal? To have one’s work caged in art’s great zoos—the Modern, the Met, the Louvre?

I craved honesty, yet found dishonesty in myself. Why commit to art? For self-realization, or for itself? It seemed indulgent to add to the glut unless one offered illumination.

Often I’d sit and try to write or draw, but all of the manic activity in the streets, coupled with the Vietnam War, made my efforts seem meaningless. I could not identify with political movements. In trying to join them I felt overwhelmed by yet another form of bureaucracy. I wondered if anything I did mattered.

— Patti Smith (Just Kids, 2010)

9th of April 2012

what has become of those simple loves that came to me once, so naturally


Ph: Angeles Peña

People are strange: They are constantly angered by trivial things, but on a major matter like totally wasting their lives, they hardly seem to notice.

-Charles Bukowski


Walker Evans

The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww!” Too fast to live, too young to die. Like a really pretty girl smoking a cigarette, and her makeup is smeared and her stockings are torn but she’s still a total babe. That’s why I stay up pretty late, go to a lot of concerts. Because I just want to live, surround myself with the living. Crackle crackle crackle. All I see is fireworks. Cause baby, you’re a firework.

On The Road; Jack Kerouacshutuppp:

(via Nick Ballon Photography)
IMG 6732 Style File: Creative Design Assistantluellaloves:


Vase of Sunflowers 1898 Henri Matisse

So so so pretty.

You used to read dictionaries like other people read novels. Each entry is a character, you’d say, who might be encountered on some other page. Plots, many of them, would form during any random reading. The story changes according to the order in which the entries are read. A dictionary resembles the world more than a novel does, because the world is not a coherent sequence of actions but a constellation of things perceived… . To portray your life in order would be absurd: I remember you at random. My brain resurrects you through stochastic details, like picking marbles out of a bag.

Édouard Levé (tr. Jan Steyn), SuicideThanks3IMG 8322 Destination: Joshua Tree

You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.

Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)

You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.

But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And I knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.

Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.

- e.e. cummings


untitled by danieladenkova on Flickr.


7th of April 2012

here I am again
trying to relearn how to breathe
and how easy it sinks
and slips away from me

what has become
of those simple loves
that came to me once, so naturally

sitting in my box
I am reading alive
disconnecting dots
that I twisted in my eyes

what has become
of those simple loves
that came to me once, so naturally

pleasure sighs, the morning benders

24th of February 2012

Town Hall, “Old Man Duff”

20th of February 2012

jump into the river baby easy as it sounds, it’s never quite as easily done, the current has us now it’s okay

1000scientists:  I wish I had a horses head mazzyfields:  Charlotte Rampling, photographer for Vogue in the 80s Je photographiais un défilé mode masculine pour Vogue à la fin des années 80. Cétait pour le fun, on y était allé avec Jean-Michel. A mes débuts, jai été mannequin. Très peu. Jai réalisé que ce nétait absolument pas pour moi, je navais ni la tête ni le mental. Heureusement, le cinéma ma attrapée très vite. lisatralala

The beauty of things must be that they end.

— Jack Kerouac, Tristessa thisivyhouse:  No boundaries between house & garden WoahIn honor of Valentine’s day. 

"And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away."


Successartpits:  Liegender weiblicher Akt                                       Egon SchielePencil and watercolor on paper191212 3/8 x 19 shesinacoma:  Françoise Dorléac in La Peau douce - 1964 cynicsdecay:  /:

"Sometimes, contentment is a matter of will. You have to look at what you have right in front of you, at what it could be, and stop measuring it against what you’ve lost. I know this to be wise and true, just as I know that pretty much no one can do it."

pg. 255 - This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper

perfectmadness:  (by Xavier Encinas) by haeshuenchanting:  John Keatss Bright Star, manuscript  (via poesies)squaremeal:  via journey / color   Matt Steenhoek

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

Anais Nin thatkindofwoman:  Happy Valentines my tumblr loves. Go out there and smooch your loved one, and if you dont have a loved one, treat yourself to something silly.  Holland’s " Deli SandwichCloset " Deli Sandwich I own a lot of button downs. Raf Simmons, Rick Owens is usually what I’m dressed in…julamint:  film tumblr lqdp9e5ZuL1r267vl Snapshot: Leah Durant, Yorkshiretumblr lxnfjbvTXg1r267vl Snapshot: Leah Durant, Yorkshire

All happiness that is dependent on others 
is bound to disappear sooner or later.
It is temporary, it is momentary, it is illusory. 
Only that joy is yours which wells up 
within your own being.
Hence Buddha says: 
delight in meditation
delight in solitude

Aloneness is the joy of being just yourself. 
It is being joyous with yourself, 
it is enjoying your own company.

There are very few people 
who enjoy their own company. 
And it is a very strange world: 
nobody enjoys his company 
and everybody wants others to enjoy his company.


Maple candies  by h & L metz on Flickr.maple candiesuntitled by star ✶ ship on Flickr.foxontherun:  (via Just Because /) thanks for meeting me McCartney.colorless souls1 Saturday DOsolsetur:  Noa Azoulay tumblr lxwegaZ8KA1r267vl Snapshot: Leah Durant, Yorkshirethepicpumpkin2 Saturday DOtumblr low5m2zIG41qar3y2o1 500 California All The Way

22nd of January 2012

Dr. Dog, npr tiny desk concert. 


peanut butter snicker coma.

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