Sometimes I have trouble believing that the earth really is not a cold dead place, then I listen to this song and realize this life is and will always be exactly what you want it to be. There is not one song that gives me a more overwhelming sense of peace. What I need for the new year.
“I do what i can to get away from this. everything that happened has been such a mess. in hoping i can see you more, i see you less. everything that i’ve been doing is meaningless. everybody thinks we’re really growing up it’s in our heads.”—Tigers Jaw, can’t get enough of this new record. If you haven’t listened yet, please do so.
“According to Proust, one proof that we are reading a major new writer is that his writing immediately strikes us as ugly. Only minor writers write beautifully, since they simply reflect back to us our preconceived notion of what beauty is; we have no problem understanding what they are up to, since we have seen it many times before. When a writer is truly original, his failure to be conventionally beautiful makes us see him, initially, as shapeless, awkward, or perverse. Only once we have learned how to read him do we realize that this ugliness is really a new, totally unexpected kind of beauty and that what seemed wrong in his writing is exactly what makes him great.”—Adam Kirsch (via ironicheroine)
“I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn’t have a god, politics, ideas, ideals. I was settled into nothingness; a kind of non-being, and I accepted it. I didn’t make for an interesting person. I didn’t want to be interesting, it was too hard. What I really wanted was only a soft, hazy space to live in, and to be left alone.”—Charles Bukowski (via ifwewerefeckless)