Untitled/Re-inventing
Ask me anything
behavior, dreams and the unconscious, psychoanalysis, philosophy,art,dada,surrealism,outsider art,fluxus, happenings, performance art, nouveau réalisme, aimless wandering with no direction, long late night conversations, cities, mountains, cooking, music, obsessiveness, coffee shops, junk, yard sales and swap meets, thrift stores, phonographs, anything victorian, fashion, tribal cultures, tribal art, bulgarian folk music, psychedelics, african masks, all forms of photography (silver, nonsilver, pinhole, digital, photograms), spirit photography, wet plate collodion, darkrooms, expired film, polaroid, building cameras, fixing and modifying old cameras, view cameras and twin lens cameras, anything experimental in anyway, energy, sociology, anthroplogy, animal anatomy, physics,trying new things, derrangement of the senses, sense deprivation, sensory overload, isolation tanks, illusions, recording sounds on tape and making cut sound collages, poetry, tomfoolery, debauchery, happenings, antiques, long drives, books, large bodies of water, space and time, galleries and museums, bars, poor neighborhoods, very old people and very young people, riding trains/subways, clubs, nature, culture, language, castanedian self-program dream control, ganzfeld anomalous information transfering, hypnagogic induction, psychoneuroimmunology, theta wave brain synchronization, sleep deprivation, lucid dreaming and induction, compressed time, holophonics, centaur-level transmogrification, metronome heartbeat correlating, phallus, disappearing noise, resultant tones, herbs, botany, , automatism, communes, nudity, cold shower therapy , collecting and searching for things on the beach
some things we should start romanticising
- bike rides, especially when listening to music. the wind in your hair, the songs in your ears, every sound being quiet and living in your own bubble of lyrics. (edit: in some countries this is illegal and it can be dangerous - i had not thought of that and i apologise)
- sitting in a bus. you’re going back home, maybe you’re reading a book or just looking outside of the foggy glass.
- making tea. warming up the water, bringing it to a simmer and closing the gas, pouring it into a ceramic mug, the perfume of tea leaves: it’s a ritual.
- buying a new book. walking in a book store, reading the first page of a book that sounds interesting, choosing a book because of its cover, never having heard of that book.
- reading the last page of a book. that one doctor who episode where the doctor says he rips the last page of each book he reads, reading the last line and feeling like all the air in your lungs is gone.
- that one specific moment when you are coming back from a party and you’re walking the few last steps before getting home.
- writing your name on a new notebook. scribbling messy letters or trying hard to make it look pretty.
- tying shoe laces. where are you even going?
- picking a flower. getting off the road and into a patch of grass just to pick a yellow wild flower, pressing it in a book, or putting it in a glass of water.
- finally getting to bed. the cold bedsheets, closing your burning eyes, the small sounds of the city.
-c. 23.07.20 6.15pm
“Since I have no sweet flower to send you, I enclose my heart. A little one, sunburnt, half broken sometimes, (…)”— Emily Dickinson, from To Mrs. Samuel Bowles, Summer, 1863? in “Letters Of Emily Dickinson”
(via cherryellow)
