"The nervous tension I’d been feeling for months broke
And strangely, I laughed.
Then I went to my bedroom and I laid down,
And in my tears, and in the heaviness of everything I drowned.”
– Mark Kozelek
"I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to do."
"What does your soul say? What does your conscience say?"
"I don’t know… I can’t hear her over all the death and the uncertainty and the static. I’m always told to listen to my heart… to listen to my ‘self’, but lately I feel so thin that if I reach inside myself for answers, my skin might tear and all my existence will flood out and collect in uncertain, grey pools on the floor.
All of my battles rage close to the surface. There is no depth or weight to my conflict. There are no subtle hues in the choices of my life, only black and white – right and wrong – success and failure; and pain.
I feel thin.”
I have so much love for Gould. In my opinion, there is no finer performer of Bach, Schoenberg or Gibbons on the keyboard.
I worry about you.
Not in a critical way, but in the way a father will sometimes get a sting of pain at the thought of bringing another soul into a horrible world. But then, I think about that father or that mother, and I know that this wouldn’t stop them.
Because sometimes I imagine being with…
Marvellous. I 100% get this vibe.
Uncle Walt showed me the inside of his self.
And as noted in ‘Song of Myself’, his self is different to himself.
That’s why i feel privileged.
I walked in,
You were standing by the kitchen sink.
You felt thin,
You were draining – you were washing to clean
Those brown eyes,
Had read what you shouldn’t see.
And your marked lines
Were eroded by the sea -
Change; a brand new anger
You know, you’ll never get over.
Brand new, kind of sadness,
Profound, so let’s stay in bed forever.
Why get up when the world is colder than the sheets?
So you stay there,
And the world will miss you
Until you’re ready to look at people,
And you’ll feel brand new.
The world will miss you.
His Ukelele album is one of my happiest albums.
That night felt hot and heavy
and we danced like underwater
deaf to surface fears.
We shared smiles with old ladies
Whose faces have kissed the sun
for a hundred years.
My hands shook.
You are whiskey,
You are wine.
Your face was like a person,
your heart – the sound of a city, at night.
I thought maybe this
is how romance feels.
Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye (via elitaer)
My favourite Bukowski quote.