1725 | Uploaded on December, 22,
2009 | 5 hours ago 
(via tinyparcels)
Courtney.
Bleeds tea.
Reads books.
Writes notes.
Eats peanut butter.
Revels in pretty things.
----
Mail is happiness in a bundle.
Bleeds tea.
Reads books.
Writes notes.
Eats peanut butter.
Revels in pretty things.
----
Mail is happiness in a bundle.
2 | Uploaded on December, 18,
2009 | 4 days ago
“ There is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a Dream, a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And You are but a Thought — a vagrant Thought, a useless Thought, a homeless Thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities.
The Mysterious Stranger by Mark Twain (via obviouslyobvious)
0 | Uploaded on November, 22,
2009 | 1 month ago
“ Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death. “Bright Star” John Keats
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death. “Bright Star” John Keats
18 | Uploaded on November, 13,
2009 | 1 month ago
Thesis
I could only think of totalizing words to describe the feeling. Like a sickness descending or a snowstorm, every cell in my body felt burdened with the new sensation.
At 7:30 PM it was too early to go to bed, even by my standards. I waited. Drank a cup of water, watched Seinfeld and did the crossword puzzle. The night approached slowly; I felt the way I used to feel in church when I sat there calculating the percentage of service left over after communion. I firmly believe that the desire to control time is just another way of slowing it down.
43 | Uploaded on November, 13,
2009 | 1 month ago 
heaven.
exactly right.
25 | Uploaded on November, 1,
2009 | 1 month ago
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
196 plays
St. Vincent — These Days (Jackson Browne/Nico cover)
844 | Uploaded on November, 1,
2009 | 1 month ago 
