January 16, 2012
snowce:

Ilya Repin, What Freedom!, 1903

snowce:

Ilya Repin, What Freedom!, 1903

(via unfuckthereallife)

11:43pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZqKUMyEu-cDU
  
Filed under: life 
October 13, 2011
nedhepburn:

There was this crust punk dude I knew in my early 20’s who died a couple of years ago after getting really drunk one night - alone - and punching a window for reasons, I suppose, none of us will ever know. He bled to death alone in that room. He was a really cool guy. Like, one of the most affable (if not agreeable) people I’ve ever met on this planet. 
There was this other guy I knew, a crust punk dude from Minneapolis, a friend of my girlfriend’s brother who was more or less her second younger brother, who killed himself. He was so fucking charming. I remember walking with him to buy beer one night. It was one of those random conversations where, you know, your brain presses record the entire time and you remember everything in crystal clear clarity. What I wore, what he wore, how cold it was walking to that store, but that it didn’t matter because he was making me laugh all the way there and all the way back, smoking Parliament Lights and lighting them with a Zippo. 
I knew this one crust punk kid from San Jose, this guy Jon. He wore a snapback hat with a picture of a yellow bear on it for the entire time I knew the guy. He’d ride the city bus with me when we were too bored to go to class and tell me what bands were “up”. I gleamed a few things off of him: I believe he was the first person to get me to listen to Bad Brains, things like that. He was always kind of an asshole, but the kind of asshole that you don’t mind being friends with when you’re 18. 
I ran into him a couple years ago, randomly, at Westgate Mall. He was near unrecognizable in a gray sweater and slacks, wearing basketball shoes and a Livestrong bracelet. He was the one to recognize me. I didn’t believe it was him. He was with two girls, one in a spaghetti strap camisole, the other in a Nautica polo of some kind. They both looked like the kind of person who’s password for everything on their computer was indeed “password”. You changed, I said.Yeah, for the better, he said. Really? was what came out of my mouth. Yeah, I’m not wasting my life chasing shitty bands anymore, he said.Was it the bands? I asked.He took his arm off of the shoulder of the girl in Nautica and scratched his head.I mean, he said, I don’t know, they’re just bands. But! I said, Dude! You used to talk for hours about music!  He shook his head.That was then, he said, putting his arm around the girl in Nautica. 
We talked for a little more and then parted ways. My mouth started to taste like copper and I couldn’t figure out why. I thought about the other two crust punk kids, how happy they were when they talked about the music. It was as if they were babies again, staring at a mobile turning, turning, turning. But then something inside of them gave up. Something inside of Jon had given up, too, but it was different, something uglier. 
Everything tasted like copper that day. 

nedhepburn:

There was this crust punk dude I knew in my early 20’s who died a couple of years ago after getting really drunk one night - alone - and punching a window for reasons, I suppose, none of us will ever know. He bled to death alone in that room. He was a really cool guy. Like, one of the most affable (if not agreeable) people I’ve ever met on this planet. 

There was this other guy I knew, a crust punk dude from Minneapolis, a friend of my girlfriend’s brother who was more or less her second younger brother, who killed himself. He was so fucking charming. I remember walking with him to buy beer one night. It was one of those random conversations where, you know, your brain presses record the entire time and you remember everything in crystal clear clarity. What I wore, what he wore, how cold it was walking to that store, but that it didn’t matter because he was making me laugh all the way there and all the way back, smoking Parliament Lights and lighting them with a Zippo. 

I knew this one crust punk kid from San Jose, this guy Jon. He wore a snapback hat with a picture of a yellow bear on it for the entire time I knew the guy. He’d ride the city bus with me when we were too bored to go to class and tell me what bands were “up”. I gleamed a few things off of him: I believe he was the first person to get me to listen to Bad Brains, things like that. He was always kind of an asshole, but the kind of asshole that you don’t mind being friends with when you’re 18. 

I ran into him a couple years ago, randomly, at Westgate Mall. He was near unrecognizable in a gray sweater and slacks, wearing basketball shoes and a Livestrong bracelet. He was the one to recognize me. I didn’t believe it was him. He was with two girls, one in a spaghetti strap camisole, the other in a Nautica polo of some kind. They both looked like the kind of person who’s password for everything on their computer was indeed “password”. 
You changed, I said.
Yeah, for the better, he said.
Really? was what came out of my mouth.
Yeah, I’m not wasting my life chasing shitty bands anymore, he said.
Was it the bands? I asked.
He took his arm off of the shoulder of the girl in Nautica and scratched his head.
I mean, he said, I don’t know, they’re just bands.
But! I said, Dude! You used to talk for hours about music!  
He shook his head.
That was then, he said, putting his arm around the girl in Nautica. 

We talked for a little more and then parted ways. My mouth started to taste like copper and I couldn’t figure out why. I thought about the other two crust punk kids, how happy they were when they talked about the music. It was as if they were babies again, staring at a mobile turning, turning, turning. But then something inside of them gave up. Something inside of Jon had given up, too, but it was different, something uglier. 

Everything tasted like copper that day. 

2:23am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZqKUMyAcgZQv
  
Filed under: music writing life death 
October 3, 2011
"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be."

― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower  (via trransatlanticism)

September 30, 2011
"You can outdistance that which is running after you, but not what is running inside you."

Rwandan Proverb  (via thelittlephilosopher)

(Source: uarewhatudream, via a-sphere-deactivated20120702)

September 30, 2011
"Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss…. But every once in a while, you find someone who’s iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare."

— Wendelin Van Draanen (Flipped)

(Source: myquotelibrary, via gifte)

September 29, 2011
"We have more degrees and less knowledge. Bigger houses, smaller hearts. Greater status, less respect. More blessings, less gratitude. Larger social networks, fewer friends. And the dumb just keep getting dumber."

— (via journeyonlifesway)

(Source: passionate-opinions, via thelittlephilosopher)

September 28, 2011
"In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: It goes on."

Robert Frost (via cheesegasm)

(via starletdolly)

September 26, 2011
"Everything around me is evaporating. My whole life, my memories, my imagination and its contents, my personality-it’s all evaporating. I continuously feel that I was someone else, that I felt something else, that I thought something else. What I’m attending here is a show with another set. And the show I’m attending is myself."

Fernando Pessoa (via impaledsiilence)

these quotes are perfect for my melting reality

(via impaledsiilence-deactivated2012)

September 26, 2011
"Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?"

— John Keats, Letters of John Keats (via serialstranger)

5:03pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZqKUMy9zU9em
  
Filed under: pain life quotes 
September 22, 2011
soundthat:

untitled by Stepan Obruchkov

soundthat:

untitled by Stepan Obruchkov

(via inaboundless-sea)

Liked posts on Tumblr: More liked posts »