You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw - but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of - something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clapclap of water against the boat’s side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it - tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest - if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say “Here at last is the thing I was made for.” We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.
Here is my piece for UDON’s “ALIEN VISIONS” art book! Available now as a limited edition print in my Storenvy (chrissiezullo.storenvy.com). Limited to 350. Alien is one of my favorite films, and I am so happy to be a part of this project !! Happy Alien Day!
I got a stick n poke of the lil crying alien in the corner of @actuallygrimes album cover for Visions!! (Ignore how red it looks it was drawn on with a pink pen)
I love this album so much and the little doodle in the corner is just so cute looking
I’m seeing her live on Sunday and I really hope I’ll be able to show her it
(Also if everyone reblogs this or tweets it to grimes or whatever so she can see it I would die thank u)
walk amongst us. They move in silence, speak only when spoken to and
attract only people and places where they’re needed. Their minds work
different and they’re moving towards a peaceful United earth. They
resemble what they want to resemble and and exist on a plane of energy
moving out and about spreading peace. Their earth is the future,
mentally cleansing the current minds. 👽👸🏽 IG: @honnetebas good luck in LA 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 #energy#peace#unity#earth#aliens#alien#queen#nikon#eternallight#labound
That I had a vision quest, and unknowingly drew this on my arm, and after coming out of this vision quest/trance noticing I wrote these on my arm perfectly, not having seen me doing it, let alone know I was doing it 5 years ago (2012):
So yeah, maybe I’m a bit salty, I mean it was a great movie, but your telling me there aren’t secret societies, or that I’m paranoid? pssh. you still only have half of the puzzle anyway.