Install this theme
I thought about all of the things that everyone ever says to each other, and how everyone is going to die, whether it’s in a millisecond, or days, or months, or 76.5 years, if you were just born. Everything that’s born has to die, which means our lives are like skyscrapers. The smoke rises at different speeds, but they’re all on fire, and we’re all trapped.
― Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (via itsathreepatchproblem)

For some people I know.

Myself as the Doctor in a phone booth, somewhere on the blurry part of the Vegas strip.

Myself as the Doctor in a phone booth, somewhere on the blurry part of the Vegas strip.

And I kissed her cheek, wet and salty. But what I gave was that non-kiss one places the top of babies’ heads, with lips gently resting, pursed but unmoving, unable to summon the strength to overcome the joy and heartbreak of holding something so breakable, so beautiful.

… When I think of the craving to do something, which continually tickles and spurs those millions of young Europeans who cannot endure their boredom and themselves, then I realize that they must have a craving to suffer and find in their suffering a probable reason for action, for deeds. Neediness is needed! Hence the politicians’ clamor, hence the many false, fictitious, exaggerated “conditions of distress” of all sorts of classes and the blind readiness to believe in them. These young people demand that — not happiness but unhappiness should approach from the outside and become visible; and their imagination is busy in advance to turn it into a monster so that afterward they can fight a monster. If these people who crave distress felt the strength inside themselves to benefit themselves and to do something for themselves internally, then they would also know how to create for themselves, internally, their very own authentic distress. Then their inventions might be more refined and their satisfactions might sound like good music, while at present they fill the world with their clamor about distress and all too often introduce into it the feeling of distress. They do not know what to do with themselves — and therefore paint the distress of others on the wall; they always need others! And continually other others! — Pardon me, my friends, I have ventured to paint my happiness on the wall… .
Friedrich Nietzsche. The craving for suffering. 56. Book One. The Gay Science.  (via seeyoulateraggregator)

I like parenthesis. They give people a chance to let out one of the other voices in their head, to be interrupted by themselves, as if whatever their alter-ego had to say was so damn important it just could not wait. They’re such a wonderful excuse to be absolutely fever-mad.

3 days, 3 deserts, and a whiskey for the end of the world. (Pt. 2)

3 deserts, 3 days, and a whiskey for the end the world. (Pt. 1)

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Gregory Alan Isakov - The Stable Song

The Stable Song - Gregory Alan Isakov