When I think about you, I feel a lot better. As if I can breath. I wish to see you again at least with lucidity. I’ll hide and remain pale. I don’t feel safe any more. What’s wrong with me? Where can we go? Sigh.
My laptop’s completely fucked. The list to do:
1. Get laptop repaired
2. Buy plug for external drive
3. Pay Jackie, Eric, Nicole, and that nice girl back in drinks
4. Never burn a bridge
5. Never, ever talk shit
When out of men’s hearts all hate is gone
It’s better to die than forever live on
Eh, I’ll write that I’m starting to feel apathy at the moment. Why should I bother? I didn’t even want to. When I walked on Olive and 11th st. the sun hit me, and neurons started to fire. No. No. No, again. I was caught by the elevator. The southern accent. Dignity sparked again.
Of course, it’s different. Walking outside. It felt so brilliant.
By Joel Peter Witkin
A SNICK appreciation post for the 90’s kids
Mainbocher, Harper’s Bazaar 1940
I’m suffering as always. I wanted to get the fuck out. I don’t understand you. I don’t understand what the fuck you want from me. Get out of my head. Get out of my life. I don’t want anything to deal with you.
F Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via scienceofwar)
A man walks through a destroyed city in Germany looking for food, 1945, by Werner Bischof.
Fuck, I hate Europe.
Now, I feel somewhat off. I can say it was lovely to spend time with the pin ball crew and weird computer geeks :). Besides the lovely weather, meeting good people, and being in Missouri…. I’m rather happy.
I need whiskey.
I’m quite content.
What in the hell is this guy doing?
A ghetto, diy flame torch.