Queen Victoria's Journals
Our Queen, Elizabeth, launched a website devoted to the journals and diaries of Queen Victoria (24 May 1819 – 22 January 1901). I will very much be immersed in these. What a fascinating insight!
I do this every time I remember I’m seeing Moonrise Kingdom tomorrow with my mon cherie. Excitement is at a premium high.
(via prostheticshoulder)
The anticipation for Mewithoutyou’s new album ‘Ten Stories’ has amounted to volcanic proportions. I recall a conversation with my best buddy approx a year ago about MewithoutYou’s announcement of a new album thinking it would be out late last year believing that my excitement was enough to think its release into existence. To no such avail.
My girlfriend has bought me the deluxe edition of Ten Stories, vinyl and art work; we can both enjoy the genius of MWY together.
I am awaiting to be spirited away into their realm. Their music always brings back to me the frailty of our existence and our dependence on all things unseen, even if we are not willing to admit it. I’m waiting for the bears, the owls, the foxes, the King Beetle to be like zoologicalmusicological park in my mind, if that makes any sense.
My most influential philosopher, Wittgenstein, on Seeing.
CASH.
Jonah is in my gut, grumbling and cushioning himself on the sponge that is my stomach.
He tries to climb out every now and then, so I drink a glass of water and flush him back down my throat. Sometimes he succeeds in lodging himself in my gullet so I threaten him by swallowing a sword and jabbing at his belly.
The Conformist (1970, dir. Bernardo Bertolucci) Art direction by Ferdinando Scarfiotti.
For all the turmoil, scandal and corruption politicians put society through, at least we can still gain some relief of entertainment in them.
Strive to discover the mystery before life is taken from you.
If while living you fail to find yourself, to know yourself,
how will you be able to understand
the secret of your existence when you die?
Sufi poet Farid ud Din Attar
Escapism
Disowned Loyalty
and
a bereaved reality, a formula for forgetting intent.
