Eugene Hütz; The Three Clubs, CA; circa 2008
“Oh, darling, you’ll be their dreamy nightmare and they’ll wake up still gasping for the words to describe you.”
— Sophia Carey (via wordsnquotes)
“I’m a lot like you, so please
Hello, I’m here, I’m waiting
I think I’d be good for you
And you’d be good for me”
— Rivers Cuomo
“Life isn’t a puzzle, it’s a watch; there’s not just one piece that fits in a specially shaped hole - it’s more like if the teeth match, the wheels turn.”
— Aaron Bleyaert
“Write first and always. Painting, music, friends, cinema, all these come afterwards.”
— Henry Miller
“Dad was, is and always will be one of the kindest, most generous, gentlest souls I’ve ever known, and while there are few things I know for certain right now, one of them is that not just my world, but the entire world is forever a little darker, less colorful and less full of laughter in his absence. We’ll just have to work twice as hard to fill it back up again.” - Zelda Williams
Robin Williams - 21/7/1951 - 11/8/2014
There’s nobody like Robin. And there never will be. I’m grateful that I got to exist in his presence at one time, if only briefly. I’m grateful I got to witness his genius through countless roles that helped shape my own perspective and personality. His movies were essentially my childhood. I rarely mourn the loss of celebrities, but he is one of the greatest examples of humanity. I wish he was still here to make sense of this crazy world. He is truly missed.
“Fleetfoot Ghost”
You are the season I will not find again
Your weather is the reason I am wandering
And I’m just a feeling in the air you onced loved
Daughter of a mother nature’s son
And you won’t find me in the rains that come
That soaked the roots of where I sat from
Thinking back
Blossoms on my fine plum tree
Always seem to flower too early
And it wasn’t just the words but the ways our bodies spoke
And the way you held my hands, the way you tied me up in ropes
And you said you’d never leave it you needed me the most
And it all disappeared with such a fleetfoot ghost
And we ate until we were empty
Not fattened by our century
And when I noticed we were still hungry
We were consumed by our tragedy
Now I feel the winds blowing colder
But I am ready to get older
And I don’t expect to see you anytime soon
But if you hear this know that I’ve been thinking of you
And if you find yourself again in a true love’s nest
And you feel that same sweet holiness
You care for her and you care for yourself
Learn to grow it in the light and in the darkness
This song always gives me feels. I felt lost for a while. But it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I knew love. At least I’m pretty sure I did. Even if it was brief. Even if it will become a footnote in my life. It was good for a time. With age I appreciate all of my experiences more deeply. If I did not have them in my past I would not be the person I am today. I’m slowly getting more comfortable with myself and the implications that has on the rest of my life. All things end. All things begin, again. Life is a journey and I respect the timeline.
“Consider the source”
— Isabelle Stanowski (Grandma)
“
so you want to be a writer?
if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it for money or
fame,
don’t do it.
if you’re doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don’t do it.
if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,
don’t do it.
if you’re trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you’re not ready.
don’t be like so many writers,
don’t be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don’t be dull and boring and
pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don’t add to that.
don’t do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don’t do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.
”— Charles Bukowski