running into friends
a hot shower
all feels the same
and remember the patient in that joke, who thinks her body’s bones are all broken—everywhere she pokes, it hurts!—but it’s just her finger that is
if everything feels empty, maybe it isn’t those things but the thing lookin’ at ‘em
people like authenticity, not cleverness
I like the original the most.
I want to write, but breaking from cliches and melodrama feels like sketching left-handed. Call it intentional, sure—support a hollow drawing with a weighty term—but you don’t really know what you’re doing and it shows.
From where do you draw strength? I could hang back and watch you endlessly, but I want to bathe in it, too. I’m tired of observing. Notes for personal improvement I always scrap, unread, days later. What remains is course scheduling and social self-medication—the happy margins of an idle life.
why are music elitists (like me) such jerks? well when you (I?) like music that a lot of people* also like, your relationship to that music seems very humanly natural, collective, you belong. but when you like music that a much fewer number of people like you become more aware of unique aspects of your personality and then when people reject that thing you like, it feels kinda like they’re rejecting you, which hurts
is this obvious to other people?
(metric tons of self-exceptionalizing going on of course, but when isn’t there)
* irl people, not pitchfork staff reviewers
we should catch up
Lately I feel like I’m progressing down a dark and infinitely long hallway. Caught in familiar snares, exhausted on 7 hours of sleep
I either experience impostor syndrome or feel just plain stupid; accomplishing a task means hauling my superiors around as well
When I pluck thoughts out of my brain, they dry and crumble
I can link tumblr-personas to real-personas but a transitive property does not seem to hold, even for myself
If I don’t use a full-stop, the thoughts meander and are not falsifiable statements
the weather gets a LITTLE colder
and I immediately MUST wear corduroys, listen to fleet foxes, and plan to get cider donuts at the next farmers’ market
it’s odd that I love beach house so much…most of the song lyrics are positioned against someone like me, but maybe because of that I can resonate with the mood
also I’ve fled almost every lawnparties before the main act: I never saw edward sharpe, childish gambino, etc. etc.
long runs in fall/spring are always interesting. about halfway through your body feels like hastily assembled slabs of meat, while the late afternoon temperature change starts to crawl beneath your skin. distances shrink.
usually I think about a lot on runs, and I start chunking all the thoughts and reminders for easy memory access. today I didn’t, though, which was nice.
I thought about a part of Infinite Jest—James Incandenza maintains a belief that there are a finite number of erections at one time. so, any time he has one, he feels guilty. it’s one of those absurd touches that I love—because you just think “wait, that’s ridiculous. why would anyone get so worked up over something so obviously silly?” and then when you address it like that, you immediately facepalm because that’s exactly what most people, especially those with anxiety, do all the freakin’ time.
I also thought about how it would be nice if more people said like “good to see you” instead of “how’re you doing?” in greeting, because then it’s really hard to tell who is actually interested in your life and who is just doling out pleasantries and it’s always safer to divulge less in such situations, so then it’s that much more work if you actually want to know!
there’s also an idyllic part of the towpath I just discovered, past the two bridges and right after you go under a busy road. the part most people run on is beautiful, but this new part gently curves around a lazy, mossy pool and it’s just really quite wonderful.
"But life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter – they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship – but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering."
Sylvia Plath (via concerninghumans)
during “videotape”, the real drums gradually turn into electronic ones…that’s clever
the guy who did caribou has an album from ten years ago—“up in flames”—and it’s INCREDIBLE and super adhd, possibly better than swim
since when do I listen to so much electronic music?
"How can you not like G-Dragon?!"
I really really like this song
my only complaint is that the lyrics are so straightforward
I hate straightforwardness
art should be beautifully ambiguous—or, failing that, so clever that no one can complain