@an-overwhelming-question / an-overwhelming-question.tumblr.com
Hello there , i've been following you for 6 years or so and i really love your style and art , i was really hoping if you have a Spotify you can share cuz i in love with your taste in music
Hello! That is nice, I’m sorry I haven’t been posting really the past while then. I don’t use Spotify though unfortunately aah
goodnight microplastic number one goodnight microplastic number two goodnight microplastic number three goodnight microplastic number four goodnight microplastic number five goodnight microplastic number six goodnight microplastic number seven goodnight microplastic number eight goodnight microplastic number n
Philippe Morillon, Andy Warhol, 1977
Marina Tsvetaeva - I’ve loved you every day of my whole life, 1918
You should only be charged for crimes you are proud of. I think this makes sense. Everything else is forgiven.
i re-teach my brain this every day
Put it on the back burner. Be grand.
….Another
Chopin ,Waltz in A minor Op. Posth
MIDI, VCR, MiniDV, Processing, and Chopin <3 (Though I can not play this piece properly yet).
Piano Sonata No. 2 in B♭ Minor, III "Funeral March"
Mstislav Dobuzhinsky 1875 - 1957, (born in Russia, immigrated to Lithuania in 1924, then to the US in 1939) was noted for his cityscapes, mixing new and decaying, ugly, lonely but also elegant and beautiful in his urban scenes.
I Love Creedence by Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
couldn’t listen all the way through | not my thing | it’s okay | kinda catchy | ok i really like this | downloading immediately | already in my library
“I loved you because you are generous of heart! And you do not need my forgiveness, nor I yours; it is all the same whether you forgive or not, all the rest of my life you will remain like a wound in my soul, and I in yours — and that is proper … Why have I come? To embrace your feet, to press your hands, like this, to the point of pain, you remember, the way I used to press them in Moscow, to say again to you that you are my God, my joy, to say to you that I love you madly… Love is past, Mitya! But dear unto pain to me is what is past. Know that for ever. But now, for one little moment, let there be what might have been… Both you and I now love another, yet all the same I shall love you eternally, and you me, did you know that? Do you hear, love me, all the rest of your life love me!”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, 1880
“People think all this comedy is something serious, all their unquestionable intelligence notwithstanding. There lies their tragedy. Well, and they suffer, of course, but… all the same they live, they live in reality, not in fantasy; for suffering is also life. Without suffering what pleasure would there be in it? Everything would turn into one single, endless church service: much holy soaring, but rather boring. Well, and I? I suffer, but even so I do not live. I am the “x” in an indeterminate equation. I am one of life’s ghosts, who has lost all the ends and the beginnings, and even at last forgotten what to call myself.”
— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, 1880
A fire, doesn’t burn unless you are there to feel the flames. Or to choke on the ashes; unless you sputter on the fumes of your inaction, smoldering, pouring, slowly, blackly,and so far, within your throat, or stinging your open eyes! Gasp. Aghast! Every day you open your eyes is a miracle to me, something so bright I can’t even describe in retrospect or with made up words, or with fancifully placed punctuation; how could it be that you could be sad when you’re you? Does the brightness of yourself blind you to yourself, do I not in my words relate the beauty of you to you, of feeling your words, of being in the same century as you, as being on the same planet as you, as trying to write your name without saying it, as fancifully placed punctuation? As being and not being, the smoke to your embers]
