crying in real life with tears from my eyes because i have friends who get it when i’m being a pretentious bucket of poop and they will talk about it and even when life is also a bucket of poop they can help me find healing and real things and i have little tiny beautiful feelings of hope for the future
and i am at a loss as far as explaining how my own measly human perception fits into the whole UNIVERSE thing but i think it does and i think i’m a little bit happy right now and a little bit myself and it’s weird to just fall into that feeling
tell me what about a book makes you happy because i want to make all of you happy with a book and then everything can be okay
???
Anathallo - Hanasakajijii (Four: A Great Wind, More Ash)
whenever anyone says the phrase “ear candy” i reflexively say “have you heard Anathallo?!”
same goes for “concept album”
reasons not to walk around my house barefoot
- broken glass
- do you really need more reasons
the pen and the sword: A Short Meditation on Death and the Afterlife
Occasionally I get asked my opinions on death, generally from people who know that I am Catholic in some form and way but who want to know if I believe that people ‘carry on’ after death. Their idea of what I believe is simple—the winged angels playing harps in a tranquil cloud paradise, white…
hhhmmmmmrmrmmmrrrrrmmmmmmnnnn
vienne said: should i start listening to this band or
HOW IS THIS A QUESTION
the answer is yes. and i don’t really know where you should start. each of their albums is pretty self-reliant and unique, even just in terms of sound. Brother, Sister seems to be a favorite among most fans i’ve talked to. but just listen to all of them okay please
mewithoutYou 5.17.12 at Black Cat, Washington, D.C.
just a few of my favorite shots from the show last week
i want to curl into the center of every song and fall asleep in the way that falling asleep is a plunge into icy black waters, a repealing of the laws of consciousness, a rolling ocean of tapestry, a microfiche tongue licking the salt spires of human forgetfulness
i want to become polyrhythm i want to dissolve into information
i want a torch in the hand of a young man coming in from the snow who has seen much but only seen himself briefly, in passing, a shadow in a reflecting glass
i want doves to burst forth from my belly at the slightest touch i want roots growing from my fingertips i want underground rivers in my skull i want jazz in my spine i want my body to stretch until my stretching grows beyond my body
i want to whisper secrets in a hole in the ground and cover my tracks and color my breath and swallow a mountain and hollow out my mouth and sing on the surface of a lake anonymous until the sun goes down and i sleep again, cracking wide the paint and falling through the surface into obsidian voices and percussive dark
Björk - Big Time Sensuality
