Backward or forward, eternity is the same; already have we been the nothing we dread to be. — Herman Melville (via likeafieldmouse)
Have to watch myself today. Feeling ill humored.
The flowers are gone at this hour, and the sun must be reflecting off something to be projecting a circle of light on the wall, bright, unfocused, now dimming. Had a dream I was in a classroom. We stopped on the road in a snow storm and crashed classes. The films were very average but obscure. Bill Cosby made a cameo appearance as some kind of abstract cartoon character I couldn’t understand the shape of. I raised my hand. I was about to say something.
(Source: transparentoctopus, via musicfides)
I am a receiving a transmission to investigate dream color, cool breezes, octagonal windows, talking cats, low-budget tv productions on lost tapes, women with parasols, pastel naps, watercolor cosmologies, bedsheet hallways, an emotional empire founded on brain damage, addresses of past life apartments, apes dressed as children, the national pastimes of rabbits on the verge of messianic knowledge against Goliath. No longer cartoon logic but cartoon emotions. The soft feminine thigh of the end times.
What if every ten years I receive a phantom of a thought that I must pursue and articulate for the next ten years? At the end of my life, I will understand four things expertly that few have named but experienced fully without a whisper of interfering thought. Four things. Then death.
Paul Delvaux, 1897 - 1994
Paul Klee, Over Egypt, 1929
googled “dog swearing” and wasn’t disappointed
His fucking look of determination. Like, “you’re going to fucking jail Greg.”