best minds of my generation

Memeing Into the Void: The Case That We Have Entered The Last Stage of Internet Culture

Conjecture: Internet culture, specifically meme culture, can be roughly divided into distinct movements associated with time periods, much in the same way that paintings can be categorized into their respective art movements. Here’s my best attempt at doing so:

The Original Meme Era (1993-2009): The foundational period of modern internet culture, the creation of the first internet memes, characterized mostly by sincere attempts at humor: lolcats, fails, rick rolling, rage comics etc.

The Ironic Meme Era (2010-2014): Internet memes become mainstream and accessible by popular media, in response meme elitism and ironic memes are born, characterized by parodies of other memes: dank memes, Dolan, ironic fandoms (Shrek, Bee Movie), montage parodies etc.

The Post-Ironic Meme Era (2015-2016): anti-memes, multiple layers of irony, memes begin to take on depressive and nihilistic overtones, irony and sincerity begin to become blended together and ambiguous: deliberate shitposting, bone hurting juice, bottom text, I have crippling depression etc.

The Last Meme Era (2017- )


Conjecture: There is an upper limit on how meta you can get; there are only so many levels of irony you can stack on top of each other before your conceptual framework implodes on itself. Let’s set aside the fact that Reddit is the Lyme disease of the internet for a moment and take r/Circlejerk as an example. The sub was created to humorously criticize the perceived manner in which greater Reddit had become a masturbatory echo chamber devoid of meaning or purpose. Naturally, it was only a matter of time before r/Circlejerk itself became an echo chamber, except this time with an even bigger superiority complex. Thus r/metaCirclejerk was created to make fun of the people making fun of reddit.  Naturally, r/metametaCirclejerk was formed next… but that’s the end of the series; there is no r/metametametaCirclejerk. This would be unnecessary and redundant, because once you get this many layers removed you lose track of who and what you’re responding to. The bottom drops out; r/metametaCirclejerk is much more about playing with the idea of meta-criticism on the Reddit platform rather than a direct mockery of r/metaCirclejerk itself. To put it more simply, I’m positing that once you get to about three layers of irony in any given media, the meaning begins to fall apart and you can go no further. This principle explains why we are currently in the final iteration of internet culture.

What is the Last Meme Era? It is nothing more than the self-cannibalization of the meme. Notice that every meme era is a direct response to the previous era, but there is no and can be no response to the Last Meme Era. The internet is bathing in its own digestive juices. To reject the Last Meme Era is in itself an expression of the movement.

This example is quintessentially representative of the Last Meme Era. Consider how many layers of culture you have to be familiar with to even understand what it means. The John C Miller meme itself exists exclusively as corruptions of other memes and furthermore is an anti-humorous rebuttal to the appropriation of internet memes by a private corporation for profit. The meme this image is based on (bone hurting juice) also exclusively exists as modifications of other memes, and is arguably a neo-dadaist celebration of nonsense. Finally, the original web comic is a morbid parody of a children’s book.


Conjecture: Culture is inseparable from the society that creates it, and this includes internet culture; every new meme created is fundamentally the product of late stage capitalism. As of 2014 less than one out of every four films released isn’t a reboot/remake, sequel/prequel, part of a franchise, or otherwise based on another work of media, and it’s only gotten worse since then. There are no new ideas, only perversions and corruptions of previous ideas; creativity has been crushed out of us in supplication to the profit motive. Society is eating itself. The 8 richest people in the world own more wealth than the bottom 3.7 billion. Quite literally all the money in the world wouldn’t be enough to pay off the world’s debt. Corporations are murdering their own customer base and then bemoaning that there’s no one left to buy their products.

Meme culture is necessarily a reflection of society, and as a society we can’t tell if and when we’re serious anymore. The president of the United States is a reality television star who is incapable of stringing more than one complete sentence together. Is this an extended joke? Does it even matter? The nation has been coopted by fascists who choose to represent themselves with a cartoon frog. We live in a post-truth world now, the public has stopped even pretending to care about reality anymore. I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked. Mental illness is a societal problem as much as it is a psychological one; everyone has become badly sick so how can we be surprised that despair is now a meme? And what the fuck is vaporwave?

Culture has stagnated. There is nowhere to go from here but revolution or extinction. We are all memeing into the void; this is the Last Meme Era.

please like or reblog the post and use them as you please:

  • for the sake of fighting
  • YOU SHOULD NEVER TRUST THE PANTALOON
  • permanently occupied with your past
  • rolling with momentum
  • life is lonely and so am i
  • raise boys and girls the same way
  • art will survive, artists won’t
  • will nature make a man off me yet?
  • there will be a note
  • our respect ran so dry
  • life has a hopeful undertone
  • our brains are sick but that’s okay
  • i want to do all the things your lungs do so well
  • i’m dying to live
  • make art, not friends
  • thanks for the tragedy, i needed it for my art
  • i’m literally emo but let’s call it pop punk
  • raised to be stupid but taught to be nothing at all
  • we will find a destination that may only be seen with a naked mind
  • i sing of a greater love, let me know when you’ve had enough
  • life isn’t about finding yourself, it’s about creating yourself
  • i am not afraid to walk this world alone
  • DEFEND POP PUNK
  • try going to war
  • a microscopic miracle
  • a mortal playing god
  • put on some war paint
  • joy bloody division that’s who
  • if it looks like i’m laughing, i’m really just asking to leave
  • i’m not like them i can’t pretend
  • i’m just the way the doctor made me
  • i can’t stand my own mind
  • a poet is a blind optimist
  • i accept lostness forever
  • when did you look at your skin and decided you were an impotent dirty old locomotive?
  • well, my gun fires seven shades of shit
  • i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness
  • i don’t do anything with my life except romanticize and decay with indecision
  • she tasted like imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes
  • love is a haunting melody that i have never mastered and fear i never will
  • great writers are indecent people, they live unfairly saving the best part for paper
  • well you can hide a lot about yourself, but honey what are you gonna do?
  • i was killing before killing was cool
  • another cog in a murder machine
  • we are all a bunch of animals that never paid attention in school
  • it was the roar of the crowd that gave me heartache to sing
  • these bright lights have always blinded me
  • ask no questions and you’ll get no lies
  • you’re always haunted by the idea that you’re wasting your life
  • i exist too much
  • but i come to love you, am i born to bleed?
  • i must admit i can’t explain any of these thoughts racing through my brain
  • who says we have cold hearts?
  • the most heroic word in all languages is revolution
  • born from some mother’s womb (just like any other room)
  • reach the dumb to fool the crowd
  • self induced manipulation
  • tv taught me how to feel now real life has no appeal
  • if all we are is just machines let’s become a miracle and break free from these chains
  • those who don’t know their history are doomed to repeat it
  • what would you rather be? the poet or the poem?
  • we are drowning in information but starved for knowledge
  • he made me understand why hurricanes are named after people
  • when you look death in the eye and death blinks first nothing seems impossible
  • he pretend he’s okay but you should see him late at night 
  • nothing kills a man faster than his own head

anonymous asked:

hey! i read all of your works and i love every bits of it ❤️ i was just thinking maybe your can do one where jughead is a member of southside serpents and he loves eating at pop's because he's so fascinated at the mysterious blonde girl (betty) that's working there.. you can give it a twist yeah

Interesting and very cute!
****

The dark haired boy tugged the familiar leather jacket around his shoulders as he pushed through Pops glass doors, taking a deep breath he couldn’t hide the semblance of a smile that always somehow seemed to appear on his face when she was in his presence.

By she, he meant the long legged blonde in the tiny yellow uniform, her ponytail always loose and a strand of honey blonde hair had found permanent residence fluttering over her eyelashes. Betty Cooper was her name and that was about all he knew of her, well at least technically. He knew much more than he should.

He knew that her eyes were the same shade of green as springtime grass, and he knew she wore vanilla and honey perfume mixed with the distinct smell of strawberry milkshakes, he also knew that she had a very difficult time saying no, no matter what her customers asked of her she always managed to find a way to make it happen. But one of the most interesting things he noticed about her were the crescent shaped scars embedded into her hands , every time she reached for a plate on the counter he was flashed with the swollen red marks.

He had never actually spoken to her, he had made it a personal mission to avoid sitting in her section. Jughead knew the unwritten rules, Serpents stay away from that side of town, and they especially stay away from beautiful blonde waitresses with haunting eyes. It was days like today he cursed his upbringing, sure he loved his family on the Southside, but the civil war between the south and north side made it almost impossible to be within a foot of Betty Cooper and she just happened to be his favorite person to be around.

Jughead threw a lazy wave in PopTates direction as the Older man smiled and threw his hands up, yelling at a younger cook. Most of the Serpents weren’t allowed in the diner, they were rowdy and disruptive but Jughead remained behind a book, his hand in a plate of fries. Jughead took his normal seat and pulled out the worn out copy of “Howl” after a few minutes his senses were overwhelmed by distinctly familiar perfume

“I’m so sorry for the wait, I broke my apron. Can you believe that? I got it snagged on the counter and it just popped, luckily I had my sewing kit with me! Ya never know what you’re gonna need.” He glanced up at the smiling blonde and stared wide eyed, his mouth opening and closing as he sat speechless.

Betty twitched slightly nervous under his gaze
“I know I’m not your regular waitress but Gemma is home with the baby, I’m just picking up her section.”

Jughead finally snapped himself out of his daze and shook his head
“No.. uh sorry, I was..” he lamely held up the book, cursing himself for being so awkward.

Her eyes green eyes lit up
“Oh I completely understand. Whenever I’m reading anything by Alan Ginsberg, I’m in my own little world too. “I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness.” She quoted softly.

Jughead grinned
“Starving hysterical, naked” he finished.

Betty laughed, almost melodic, her eyes twinkling
“So what can I get you today?” She pulled a pad out from her tiny white apron and jotted down his order.

“I’ll be back.. oh! Hey I’ve got something for you!” He watched curious as she jogged away her perfect white sneakers barely leaving the floor.

She came back a few moments later with a soft cover book, bent and clearly used.
“If you love Ginsberg, you’ll love this one.” She pushed the book towards him and he read over the title, it was by an author he had never heard of but he would read it a hundred times if she would keep looking at him the way she was.

No one who had ever served him in the diner had even given him the time of day, Riverdale high students threw pieces of food at him and mumbled under their breath when he walked in, but Betty Cooper, she wasn’t like that. She embraced everyone, she looked at him like he was just another letterman jacket wearing peer.

“I’ll read it tonight, I can get it back to you tomorrow.” He looked up at her and saw that she was practically bouncing

“Oh no way, you’ll love it so much that you’ll finish it in like an hour! Here” Betty pulled the napkin from beside him and began jotting something down before handing it back to him
“That’s my number. Call me as soon as you finish, we can talk about it. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it.” There was something shy in her eyes and it sent a shock of something unfamiliar to his stomach. He grabbed the napkin from her hand, as soon as their fingers touched there was a distinct shock of electricity that caused both of the teens to stare shocked, Betty gasped quietly.

“Excuse me waitress! We would like a seat.”

Betty looked up and rolled her eyes, smiling
“Archie Andrews and Veronica Lodge, my insane best friends.” She explained to Jughead, louder this time she laughed “as you can see my sections pretty filled”

The pair made there way to Jugheads booth and slid in. Veronica smiling and grabbing Jugheads hand
“Veronica Lodge, thanks for sharing.”

Archie nodded, sliding his jacket off and smiling
“Hey bets, I’ll have what he’s having.” Betty rolled her eyes and bowed, shooting Jughead a look a she headed off to the kitchen.

The conversation between the teens flowed naturally and when Betty ripped her apron off and slid beside Jughead, her thigh pressed against his as she placed four milkshakes on the table he felt like an actual teenager, and maybe that was what he had always been missing.

THE HAMILTON MIXTAPE SENTENCE STARTERS.

NO JOHN TRUMBULL.

  • ❝  you ever see a painting by john trumbull?  ❞
  • ❝  the reality is messier and richer.  ❞
  • ❝  the reality is not a pretty picture.  ❞

MY SHOT ( RISE UP REMIX ).

  • ❝  that’s why i hustle hella hard, never celebrate a holiday.  ❞
  • ❝  i refuse to ever lose or throw my shot away.  ❞
  • ❝  if i have given it all i got i cannot regret it.  ❞
  • ❝  when opportunity knock, you don’t send anyone to get it — answer the door, welcome it, let it in, or regret it.  ❞
  • ❝  i surprise you guys, i’m a prize fighter.  ❞
  • ❝  be leaders, believers in yourself and mean it.  ❞
  • ❝  i mean you only get one shot, take it or leave it.  ❞
  • ❝  we ain’t got no other choice, we need to rise up.  ❞
  • ❝  inside i feel that fire that’s burning.  ❞
  • ❝  see i’ve been patiently waiting for this moment.  ❞
  • ❝  give me my one chance to grab the torch and properly hold it.  ❞

WROTE MY WAY OUT.

  • ❝  i had no foundation, no friends and no family to catch my fall.  ❞
  • ❝  running on empty, there was nothing left in me but doubt.  ❞
  • ❝  writin’ songs about rights and wrongs and bails bonds.  ❞
  • ❝  competition near, i’m a spartan without the spear.  ❞
  • ❝  this poetry in motion, i’m a poet.  ❞
  • ❝  running out of time like i’m jonathan larson’s rent check.  ❞
  • ❝  my mind is where the wild things are.  ❞
  • ❝  oh, you think you smart?  ❞
  • ❝  oversensitive, defenseless, i made sense of it.  ❞
  • ❝  these sentences are endless, so what if they leave me friendless?  ❞
  • ❝  damn, you got no chill.  ❞
  • ❝  fuckin’ right, i’m relentless!  ❞
  • ❝  i know abuela’s never really gonna win the lottery.  ❞
  • ❝  i was born in the eye of a storm.  ❞
  • ❝  this hurricane in my brain is the burden i bear.  ❞
  • ❝  i’m here cause i wrote my way out.  ❞

AN OPEN LETTER ( INTERLUDE ).

  • ❝  an open letter to the fat, arrogant, anti - charismatic national embarrassment known as  ______.  ❞
  • ❝  the man’s irrational.  ❞
  • ❝  trick, please!  ❞
  • ❝  at least i do my job up in this rumpus.  ❞
  • ❝  the line is behind me, i crossed it again.  ❞
  • ❝  they were calling you a dick back in ‘76 and you really haven’t done anything new since.  ❞
  • ❝  you’re a nuisance with no sense.  ❞
  • ❝  you’ll die of irrelevance.  ❞
  • ❝  go ahead, you aspire to my level, you aspire to malevolence.  ❞
  • ❝  i don’t care if i kill my career with this letter.  ❞
  • ❝  sit down, _____, you fat motherfucker!  ❞

VALLEY FORGE ( DEMO ).

  • ❝  these are the times that try men’s souls.  ❞
  • ❝  tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.  ❞
  • ❝  i am seeing the best minds of my generation waste away in pestilence and starvation.  ❞
  • ❝  is this all a test or have we met our doom?  ❞
  • ❝  i am beyond comprehension of their nonsense.  ❞
  • ❝  do you have no influence at all, you fucking skinflints?  ❞
  • ❝  tone it down.  ❞

IMMIGRANTS ( WE GET THE JOB DONE ).

  • ❝  it’s really astonishing that in a country founded by immigrants, immigrant has somehow become a bad word.  ❞
  • ❝  we all came to america trying to get a lap dance from lady freedom.  ❞
  • ❝  don’t think i didn’t notice those tombstones disguised as waves.  ❞
  • ❝  all you got to do is see the world with new eyes.  ❞
  • ❝  immigrants, we get the job done.  ❞
  • ❝  look how far i come.  ❞
  • ❝  we’re america’s ghost writers, the credit’s only borrowed.  ❞

CONGRATULATIONS.

  • ❝  congratulations, you have invented a new kind of stupid.  ❞
  • ❝  truly, you didn’t think this through? kinda stupid.  ❞
  • ❝  i begged you to take a break, you refused to  ❞
  • ❝  so scared of what your enemies might do to you. you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to!  ❞
  • ❝  you’ve redefined your legacy.  ❞
  • ❝  i lived only to read your letters.  ❞
  • ❝  i look at you and think ‘god, what have we done with our lives, and what did it get us?’  ❞
  • ❝  i’m back in the city and i’m here to stay.  ❞
  • ❝  i know what i’m here to do. i’m not here for you.  ❞

CABINET BATTLE 3 ( DEMO ).

  • ❝  and whether or not you want it, guys, that is the final compromise we made.  ❞
  • ❝  we cannot cure prejudice or righteous, desperate hate.  ❞
  • ❝  but we can’t address the question if we do not have an answer.  ❞
  • ❝  is it my turn? good.  ❞
  • ❝  a land of the free? no it’s not, it’s hypocrisy.  ❞
  • ❝  how dare you.  ❞
  • ❝  well, you asked how i feel. i don’t pretend to know the answer, but the question is real.  ❞
  • ❝  let’s take this moment to establish a precedent.  ❞
  • ❝  do you really wanna have that conversation?  ❞
  • ❝  let’s hope the next generation thinks of something better.  ❞

WASHINGTONS BY YOUR SIDE.

  • ❝  it’s kinda crazy ‘cause people think i got it made just ‘cause i got paper.  ❞
  • ❝  i do got it made but that’s ‘cause i made it myself.  ❞
  • ❝  don’t matter what most people say.  ❞
  • ❝  i did everything that i want, i still don’t care what anybody else think.  ❞
  • ❝  it must be nice to have everybody on your side.  ❞

WHO TELLS YOUR STORY.

  • ❝  when i die, will heaven be done?  ❞
  • ❝  what will my legend become?  ❞
  • ❝  the path to perfection is rarely achieved. i head in that direction, i dream and believe.  ❞
  • ❝  the quills that i dip into the ink go to document and you’ll remember me when i’m extinct.  ❞
  • ❝  through hard times, we spark minds to keep the flame on.  ❞
  • ❝  will they tell your story in the end?  ❞

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,
    starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking
    for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
    connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking
    in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating
    across the tops of cities contemplating jazz…

Cadets read “Howl”, February 19, 1991, Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, Virginia. 

“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz” - Allen Ginsberg, Howl

famous first lines of poetry
BOLD the ones that apply to your muse.

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked // tyger tyger, burning bright // i have done it again. // do not go gentle into that good night. // the sea is calm to-night. // let us go then, you and i, //  april is the cruelest month, //  pretty women wonder where my secret lies. // there is a place where the sidewalk ends // i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) // two roads diverged in a yellow wood, // whose woods these are i think i know // let us twain walk aside from the rest; // once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary, // i taught myself to live simply and wisely // it so happens i am sick of being a man // i wandered lonely as a cloud // does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? // o my love is like a red, red rose // o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; // out of the night that covers me, // it was many and many a year ago, // you may write me down in history // do not stand at my grave and weep // some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. // hope is the thing with feathers // the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, // no man is an island, // remember me when i am gone away, // i met a traveler from an antique land // ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves// this is thy hour o soul, // when we wear the mask that grins and lies, // death be not proud, //  and death shall have no dominion. // laugh, and the world laughs with you // the art of losing isn’t hard to master; // to see a world in a grain of sand // is there anybody there? said the traveler // nobody heard him, the dead man,// that crazed girl improving her music.  // come to me in the silence of the night; // where the mind is without fear and the head is held high // when you are old and grey and full of sleep, // in flanders’ fields the poppies blow // i thought of you and how you love this beauty // life, believe, is not a dream // it may be misery not to sing at all, // if starry space no limit knows // come live with me and be my love, // had we but world enough and time, // my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense // bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art– // thou still unravish’d bride of quietness // how do i love thee? let me count the ways. // heaven is what I cannot reach // my dear, my dear, i know// in visions of the dark night // shall i compare thee to a summers day? // break, break, break // she walks in beauty, // i had a dream, which was not all a dream. // he clasps the crag with crooked hands.

thank you~ @honourateventide @emilyplaysgames @zoetic-grimoire  

tagging: @porcelain-and-blood @ishgardianskypirate @house-vexile @season-of-maha @arkiela @duskwild @rhotdornn @necrologos  @mythrilreflections  ( everyone jump in and tag me! )

famous first lines of poetry
BOLD the ones that apply to your muse
.

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked // tyger tyger, burning bright // i have done it again. // do not go gentle into that good night.// the sea is calm to-night. // let us go then, you and i, //  april is the cruelest month, //  pretty women wonder where my secret lies. // there is a place where the sidewalk ends // i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) // two roads diverged in a yellow wood, // whose woods these are i think i know // let us twain walk aside from the rest; // once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary, // i taught myself to live simply and wisely // it so happens i am sick of being a man // i wandered lonely as a cloud // does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? // o my love is like a red, red rose // o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; // out of the night that covers me, // it was many and many a year ago,// you may write me down in history // do not stand at my grave and weep // some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. // hope is the thing with feathers // the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, // no man is an island, // remember me when i am gone away, // i met a traveller from an antique land // ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves//this is thy hour o soul, // when we wear the mask that grins and lies, // death be not proud,//  and death shall have no dominion. // laugh, and the world laughs with you // the art of losing isn’t hard to master; //to see a world in a grain of sand // is there anybody there? said the traveller // nobody heard him, the dead man,// that crazed girl improving her music.  // come to me in the silence of the night; // where the mind is without fear and the head is held high // when you are old and grey and full of sleep, // in flanders’ fields the poppies blow // i thought of you and how you love this beauty // life, believe, is not a dream // it may be misery not to sing at all, // if starry space no limit knows // come live with me and be my love, // had we but world enough and time, // my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense //bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art– // thou still unravish’d bride of quietness // how do i love thee? let me count the ways. // HEAVEN IS WHAT I CANNOT REACH! // my dear, my dear, i know // in visions of the dark night // shall i compare thee to a summers day? // break, break, break //she walks in beauty, //i had a dream, which was not all a dream. // he clasps the crag with crooked hands.

Tagged by: @elinereez (Thanks a lot!)

2

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities

For reincarnated greek gods, lost in their lives, wasted and dead inside {listen}

Famous first lines of poetry!
BOLD the ones that apply to your muse.

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked // tyger tyger, burning bright // i have done it again. // do not go gentle into that good night. // the sea is calm to-night. // let us go then, you and i, //  april is the cruelest month, // pretty women wonder where my secret lies. // here is a place where the sidewalk ends // i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) // two roads diverged in a yellow wood, // whose woods these are i think i know  // let us twain walk aside from the rest; // once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary, // i taught myself to live simply and wisely// it so happens i am sick of being a man // i wandered lonely as a cloud // does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? // o my love is like a red, red rose // o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; // out of the night that covers me, // it was many and many a year ago, // you may write me down in history // do not stand at my grave and weep // some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. // hope is the thing with feathers // the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, // no man is an island, // remember me when i am gone away, // i met a traveler from an antique land // ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves // this is thy hour o soul, // when we wear the mask that grins and lies, // death be not proud, // and death shall have no dominion. // laugh, and the world laughs with you // the art of losing isn’t hard to master; // to see a world in a grain of sand// is there anybody there? said the traveler // nobody heard him, the dead man, // that crazed girl improving her music. // come to me in the silence of the night; // where the mind is without fear and the head is held high // when you are old and grey and full of sleep, // in flanders’ fields the poppies blow // i thought of you and how you love this beauty // life, believe, is not a dream // it may be misery not to sing at all, // if starry space no limit knows // come live with me and be my love, // had we but world enough and time, // my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense // bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art– // thou still unravish’d bride of quietness // how do i love thee? let me count the ways. // HEAVEN IS WHAT I CANNOT REACH! // my dear, my dear, i know // in visions of the dark night // shall i compare thee to a summers day? // break, break, break // she walks in beauty, // i had a dream, which was not all a dream. // he clasps the crag with crooked hands.

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Tropico, Lana Del Rey

And the spirit of John moved upon the face of the waters.

And John said: ”Let there be light.” And there was light.

And John saw that it was good.

Dear John forgive us our sins. (x9)

Creator of all, forgive us our sins.

Thank you.

I wanna tell you where  you at. It was me on this campsite.

And I’m gonna teach you how to be cowboys. And if you want to be tough cowboys.

I don’t wanna hear you cryin’. I don’t wanna hear you belly aching.

You gonna get on that horse on that ride. Don’t be afraid.

Wear your boots up high, your pants low. Lean your hat in the good way.

(- Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature!)

When you get on that, don’t be jerking on it. Just ride nice and still.

You can do it, I believe you.

Ride with the wind. Don’t complain.

Never say you’re sorry ‘cause sorry is a sign of weakness.

I don’t want you to hide from your mama because I will ran you back out.

You are a good kid. All you little cowboys will do a good job for me.

Make sure you do it, pilgrim, ‘cause I’ll be watching you.

-Life can change on a dime. Sometimes you just have to gamble.

-Yeah, baby, that’s what it is. That’s what it’s all about.

-Amen.

Don’t forget:  Write to your mama.

*Lana Del Rey - Body Electric*

I sing the body electric.

The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them.

They will not let me off ‘till I go with them, respond to them.

(-Man, you’ve got to be crazy!)

And discorrupt them and charge them full with the charge of the soul.

Womanhood, and all that is a woman - and the man that comes from woman,

The womb, the teats, the nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and risings.

The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud.

Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming, poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and tightening.

The continual changes of the flex of the mouth and around the eyes.

The skin, the sun-burnt shade, freckles, hair.

The curious sympathy one feels when feeling the hand of the naked meat of the body.

The circling rivers, the breath, and breathing in and out,

The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence downward toward the knees.

The thin red jellies within you are within me - the bones and the marrow in the bones, the exquisite realisation of health;

 O I say, these are not the parts and poems of the body only, but of the soul.

O I say now these are the soul!

*Lana Del Rey - Gods & Monsters*

(- For I must have you or no one!)

- You know it’s not always gonna be this way, right?
- Yeah…
- So just chill, all right?
- Mhmm
- Alright.
- Yeah.

(-Just remember: I am always there for you.)

In honour of Jack’s birthday tonight;

I thought I bring somebody here tonight that Jack can jack off to.

Are you ready?

Ladies.

-Lord Almighty, I feel my temperature rising (Burning love by Elvis)

(Howl by Allen Ginsberg)

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix.

Angel headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo with the machinery of night; who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz.

Who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenements roofs illuminated; who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war.

Who were expelled from the academies for crazy and publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull; who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall who got busted in the pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York.

Who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death or purgatoried their torsos night after night with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares.

And so, from being created in his likeness to being banished from wanting to be too much like him, we were cast out and the Garden of Eden transformed into the Garden of Evil.

Los Angeles.

The city of angels, the land of gods and monsters.

The in-between realm where only the choices made from your freewill will decide your soul’s final fate.

Some poets called it the entrance to the underworld but on some summer nights it could feel like paradise. Paradise lost.

Dear John, forgive us our sins. x2

Master of the universe, creator of all, forgive us our sins.

Dear John, forgive us our sins.

(John Wayne’s ”America, Why I Love Her”, July 1964)

*Lana Del Rey - Bel Air*

You are always on my mind. You are always on my mind.

4

“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,”

Howl, Allen Ginsberg (San Francisco 1955-1956)