Sonny and The Sunsets in my ears on the way to St. Paul.
That is perfection.
Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit, all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.
Brian Eno, A Year With Swollen Appendices (via fleurlungs)
arabellesicardi, tagging you because I just feel like this relates to robot blogging somehow.
i reblogged this about 2 years ago ahaha. this was a formative thought about girlmonstering actually. everything in the world is exactly the same.(via arabellesicardi)
I am not comfortable
in my own skin;
But I am trying
to be. Damn it,
I am trying to be.
I am not a queen
I am not an empress
I am not a goddess
Nor am I a siren
I am jagged edges
I am full of softness
I am a vessel full of light
I can snuff out darkness
I am a thunderstorm
I am a whisper after sunset
I am a blanket of mist over a forest
let me shroud you within my heat
I will fill you up with lightning
I will fill you up with raindrops
I will camp out in your heart
I will set your soul on fire
If we stay where we are, where we’re stuck, where we’re comfortable and safe, we die there. We become like mushrooms, living in the dark, with poop up to our chins. If you want to know only what you already know, you’re dying. You’re saying: Leave me alone; I don’t mind this little rathole. It’s warm and dry. Really, it’s fine. When nothing new can get in, that’s death. When oxygen can’t find a way in, you die. But new is scary, and new can be disappointing, and confusing—we had this all figured out, and now we don’t. New is life.