Though we may not want it or see it happen, everything changes. Very often, we need our feelings to change in order for us to move on.
It is thus time to learn how to cope with regret through detachment.
Assignment #3: Go around your house or any place you keep your secret treasures and memorabilia. Collect all of the small items that remind you of something or someone you have loved but had to let go. It may not have been an easy choice and it must have left marks on you (because you still keep the stuff).
Once you have it all, place them tidely on the floor and lay shirtless (and bra-less, if you’re a girl) on top of them. Lie quietly over them, and think about why this is or should be part of your past. Stay there as long as you need, but it must be long enough to cause you a slight discomfort and leave physical marks. It will eventually wear off.
If you want to participate in the project, take a picture of your marked skin and/or of the objects you lied upon and send it to firstname.lastname@example.org.
The chemistry of feelings
Natural laws, emotional states
No matter how strong my will is
Changing without obliterating
What a challenging trial to make
Is my present my past remolded?
A lot is lost, a lot is taken
And everything is transformed
Again and again
Nothing is created from scratch
Posted in Arts, Images/Words, Literature
Tagged Angelo Venosa, art, Arts, Brazilian art, Brazilian artist, contemporary art, Literature, Thoughts, Words/Images
There are those who burst with their insanity
Spitting stupidity, vomiting vulgarity
Not I, for I can but implode with mine
When I learn to erupt so slowly
My whirlwinds will turn into lakes
Pools of discomfort, embers that cool
Shall give rise to what may come my way
Posted in Arts, Literature
Tagged art, Arts, Brazilian art, Brazilian artist, contemporary art, female artists, Liliane Dardot, Literature, lithography, Words/Images
Thoughts of being nothing without my expectations and dreams have been here, within
But I am me, with the insides out, a bit real, still me
What scares and threatens may as well liberate
Through anger and ache, from past to fate
Posted in Arts, Ideas & thoughts, Painting
Tagged Alice Shintani, art, Arts, Brazilian art, Brazilian artist, female artists, painting, Thoughts, Words/Images
The problem with yearning for something
Is that one day you might get it
Or leave it
Letting go of something can be just as painful
As holding on to something going wrong
Posted in Arts, Ideas & thoughts, Images/Words, Painting
Tagged art, Arts, Brazilian art, Brazilian artist, contemporary art, painting, Rodrigo Freitas, Thoughts, Words/Images
Whan can I keep?
What will you take back?
What’s left of me, when you do that?
I’m gonna throw up
I’m gonna throw up
I’m gonna throw up
He was tailor-made for me
Perfection, any kind of perfection, always demands some kind of concealment.
Without something hiding itself, or remaining hidden, there is no perfection.
(Roberto Calasso, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony)
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Benjamin Eidem, David Varcoe, Enokae, Fashion, Gay, Literature, male beauty, male models, Mckenzie James, Photography, Roberto Calasso, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony
Baby, can you see through the tears?
I have loved Lana del Rey since the very first time I saw and heard her.
IF HOPE is to grow and blossom, it should take the form of a bush, not a tree
Its roots should be short and superficial, its leaves bendable and sweet
Its structure not stiff as a trunk, but with stems as flexible as the wind commands
So when it dies it won’t cause as much destruction
When it falls or is felled by the untamed
Pruned by the tearing of all conjunction
Writing is not enough
Talking is not enough
Music is not enough
Silence is not enough
Friendship is not enough
Love is not enough
Lust is not enough
Fun is not enough
Exhaustion is not enough
And vicariousness is of great help
Posted in Images/Words, Literature
Tagged Arts, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Cinema, Europa, ideas, Jean Marc Barr, Kirsten Dunst, Lars von Trier, Literature, Melancholia, The Antichrist, Thoughts, Words/Images
Sometimes contemplating something broken helps us reinvent ourselves.
May one day my whimsical mind be mitigated,
When my anxious weakened thoughts are obliterated
Then giving way to the magic wonders of every day,
When with the life of others I shall never play
But then again, what is the mouth to say?
There was something in the bass you gave me
I was losing all my self control
I can see that I was acting crazy
Didn’t I tell you, didn’t I tell, you didn’t I tell you?
Not to be so kind to me
I want to live in this melody.
WRITING is dying and living and dying and dying and drawing and remaining.
To be strong and weak and strong and weak and obstinate and frail.
To allow, to permit, to allow, to allow, to allow to be able to let go.
Illusion, delusion: dreaming and daring and imagining and evading.
I need them all. All of them.
Thinking tranquility cannot stop me from attempting to step out;
and novelty constantly drags me into untried territories:
its taste is truthfully fascinating,
Pictures by Eeva Karhu