alone with everybody

the flesh covers the bone

and they put a mind

in there and

sometimes a soul,

and the women break

vases against the walls

and the men drink too

much

and nobody finds the

one

but keep

looking

crawling in and out

of beds.

flesh covers

the bone and the

flesh searches

for more than

flesh.

thomas van der zaag

via there was rain

Via This is NOT New

Reading Marita

Marita

Please find me

I am almost 30.

-Leonard Cohen

Cohen etched this poem on the wall of a restaurant in Cyprus during the late 1950's. He wrote it in response to a woman who had rebuffed his advances several years prior by telling him to "come back when you're 30". Cohen was punctuating this awkward late 20s phase - he was stuck between his adolescence and maturity, scrawling his life on a wall.

Via Ulrich Museum of Art

Oh, how we ascribe our own meaning.

Genève

All my fantasies about my upcoming summer distilled in a single photograph:

via Tofs Stefano

I think of you in colours that don't exist.

Hell's Angels

"All my life, my heart has sought a thing it cannot name.

Remembered line from a long-

forgotten poem."

such an earth that has no maps

"We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden as if caves. I wish for all of this to be marked on my body when I am dead. I believe in such cartography - to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experience. All I desired was to walk upon such an earth that had no maps."

The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje (source: milk-eyed-mender via youngteam)

No but seriously, I'm in love.

Springsteen ❤

It's been nearly 25 years and I still can't get enough Springsteen.

local natives: who knows who cares

via laBlogotheque

via le smoking

Gendered oppression exists on a spectrum. On one end: make-me-a-sandwich jokes. On the other: rape. All rest on the assumption that women ought to be passive objects existing to satiate male desire. Assertions like this might have me dismissed as hyperbolic and uptight, but fuck it. When 1 in 4 women have already been the victim of sexual assault by the time they enter their second year of university, maybe people dismissing my supposed hyperbole should actually give it some thought. Maybe gendered oppression is. actually. real. And maybe we ought to be a little more introspective about the role we're each playing in perpetuating it.

But I'll bet you a sandwich that no one will even comment on this post.

In Memoriam

Currently Reading

and holy shit, it's dark.

James Blake - The Wilhelm Scream