(In) Excuse me, are we a little boat? (Out) Never! (In) My mom says it won’t last. (Out) Everybody knows that! (In) Is this a trick? (Out) I need some beauty before I die. In and out, in and out, in and out.
Posts tagged Herbert Pocket
There is no relief in realizing how frightening it is to dissolve into an inky river after the person who’s supposed to pull you out of the flowing stream suddenly eclipses. Your head, the only part of your body above the cold, dark water, feels as solitary as the moments of profound regret. You’re alone with your own self-destructive thoughts, and you are going to freeze.
Some mornings I see symmetries flowing away with the sharp morning air. I like fireplaces, they remind me of the good parts of my grandfather. I’ve never stopped to think why we like to burn things up.
The times I feel I will fall in sick precisely when my responsibility is indispensable. Ideas may seem more useless than things, but they hold the same power to wear you and tear you. When you think you may get sick, you get sick.
8:40 AM: The Havisham Hour. Day/Page/Sketch 456 of 513 from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations. –Those times when I feel like a resentful harlequin, drinking the bitter venom of others while being left in a corner to smile. I pull the petals of a daisy that a stranger slipped under the door: detains me, detains me not.– Page read by JULIO PANISELLO here: http://goo.gl/h61rCL. Visit http://www.HavishamHour.com to order fine prints, listen to previous podcasts, and to learn more about this project. ©2014 Julio Panisello.
Inconsistency is natural. Inconsistency is not valued. Our environment wants us to be consistent to be successful, which means you have to be uncreative. Do me a favor, if you are an artist I beg you to be inconsistent.
Being sentimental places you in a state where you stop participating in complexity, where you avoid reality. But if you avoid sentimentalism too much you are going to lose your innocence. Strike a balance.
We are selectively and blindly ungrateful. We unconsciously decide who to appreciate and who to disown, and that usually changes each day. We are superficial by nature, only concerned with events and not with their consequences. We are selfish by nature, only concerned with people in relation to us and not from their own point of view.
We’re bad at remembering things, that’s why we write in the first place, and also that’s why we become artists, so we stop losing important information. I like to hold on to things I love after they’re gone.
Precautions become the law of the matter against beautiful hindrances. Our vocabulary is so limited when we address them, we repeat the same words until they weaken and die. On top of it, we are afraid of writing ill-written letters to them.
When I was a kid no one told me that some people show love by tearing the people they love down. I would have thought then that it was a ridiculous idea, until I started finding out that it’s not an exception. A lot of people understand love exclusively when they make the people they love suffer. It’s disgusting.