watch this movie.

reinvent.

If this week isn't effed up, I don't know what is.  But dear god, I love The National.

clams casino

flies!

Always a day brightener.  I love Winnebago Man.

dark.

New girl crush, Jennifer Lawrence.

leave me quicker.

yes.

via Oh, you bad turtles!

another sunday morning.

Rediscovering old favorites.

saturday afternoon.

Waking up at noon, This Old House, and Real Estate.

breaking bad

:: clenches heart :: [spoilers]

• Even though it is this character’s downfall, his immense and misplaced faith in all the wrong father figures. Like is there anything more endearing than his all-encompassing trust in Walt’s intellect in Four Days Out? “You said it yourself.” - “A robot?” is so funny but also so heartbreaking because you’re like oh jesus, this kid really thinks this flawed, prideful mess of a human being is a superhero.
• He’s not a cartoon. idk, Jesse could have been such a stereotypical fuck up, but when the writers contrast him with people like Badger or Victor, it’s clear that he has more common sense and ingenuity than the former and more character than the latter. “You don’t want a criminal lawyer, you want a criminal. Lawyer.”
• His morality, which we have definitely seen compromised but is still intact on some level. It’s morally grey, with intentionally/self-drawn blind spots - like, he will peddle meth at NA meetings and will kill an innocent man to protect Walt but can’t stomach kids being neglected - but it’s still functioning on his own (admittedly broken) compass of mercy/justice.
• He strays from that ethical character, but those transgressions almost always stem from his self-loathing and/or to protect others. I think you can make the argument that Jesse is the most redeemable central character on the show.
• “…Bitch.”

via are you immensely pleased.

skumle planer

future islands.

This band is killing me.

domingo.

How I love Sunday mornings, Charles Osgood, Bob Schieffer, a cup of coffee, and a good playlist.

real friends.

sunday night.

sunday evening.

sunday afternoon.

jazz hands! ... again.

just the feeling like you're gonna die.

I should be working, but this is SO good.

a noah baumbach kind of night.

you can't resist.

hold out.

jazz hands!

nostalgic.

And so my heartaches kept growing and growing, and I saw myself going more and more to pieces - and everyone else would have seen it, too, if I hadn’t been so miserable that no one even looked at me anymore! and still more and more I craved his affection… His kisses and his friendly arms around me were just like heaven— a dark heaven, that I could go into, and where I wanted only to be left - poor, deaf, dumb, and blind. Already, I was getting to depend on it. And I used to imagine that we were two happy children free to wander in a Paradise of sadness. We were in absolute harmony. Deeply moved, we labored side by side. But then, after a piercing embrace, he would say : “How funny it will all seem, all you’ve gone through, when I’m not here anymore. When you no longer feel my arms around your shoulders, nor my heart beneath you, nor this mouth on your eyes. Because I will have to go away someday, far away. Besides, I’ve got to help out others too: that’s what I’m here for. although I won’t really like it… dear heart…” And in that instant I could feel myself, with him gone, dizzy with fear, sinking down into the most horrible blackness: into death. I made him promise that he would never leave me. And he promised, twenty times; promised like a lover. It was as meaningless as my saying to him: “I understand you.Arthur Rimbaud (Délires I: Vierge folle - L’Époux infernal) (via larrydimick) (via FYE)

love.

the sound of letting go

my medium-sized american heart

la quiero ver

waiting to fail

About to take off for a work trip in Florida... I think I might miss my speakers most.

new mexico

via my favorite pair of photographers, Benoline. I <3 them.

and now... I want to plan a trip to White Sands.

I thought, Will anyone be the better for making me miserable? And the answer came back, no. No one will. There’s no one to fret, no one to condemn, no one to bless me for being a good girl, no one to punish me for being wicked. Heaven was empty. I didn’t know whether God had died, or whether there never had been a God at all. Either way I felt free and lonely and I didn’t know whether I was happy or unhappy, but something very strange had happened. And all that huge change came about as I had the marzipan in my mouth, before I’d even swallowed it. A taste, a memory, a landslide.

The Amber Spyglass, Philip Pullman (via AEL, via cake-light)

those eyes

bittersweet.

rick james said...

and nas, too.

i love biggie.

m.m.

The reason you haven't felt it is because it doesn't exist.

classic.

150

Like.

a billion wicked thoughts

Read: Sex, Lies and Data Mining

I picked this book up following an NPR recommendation earlier in the summer. The authors' conclusions ultimately felt intuitive to me, but it was an enjoyable read nonetheless.

getting sick isn't any fun.

via Fail blog

covers.

similarities.

live a little.

via Post Secret.

Louis and Lucille Armstrong, Egypt, 1961

via The Impossible Cool

And now I should get to work...

mmm

you need poetry.

green.

continuity.

chit chat

There was a gaggle of women congregated around the entrance to the 13th floor restrooms, chatting in that slightly subversive, conspiratorial way so common to their gender...

Did you see her new Chanel bag?

Oh, I know her boyfriend was sneaking around.

I'm taking my dog to a groomer just off Kirby tomorrow.

Barf.

yeahhh

contrast.

via Hatehandles.

rabbit hole

All words feel trite and dull. So raw.

sunday morning.

via hatehandles.

Face the Nation is up next, y'all.

epilepsia.

moth.

I'm back to blogging, y'all :)

the people went mad.

I don't even know what...

set the ray to jerry.

in total agreement.

I actually don’t think of them as that bleak or that bad, you know? “Terrible Love” the first song is about when you have an extreme emotion. Sometimes that’s the best, when you first just fall into infatuation with someone. It’s terrible, but it’s also intoxicating. “Sorrow” is about a person’s love affair with his own sadness. Sorrow is something they don’t want to lose. Maybe they’re told they should get over this—you know, take the pill and be happy. Sadness is not always the worst feeling. Sometimes it’s a really pleasurable thing to be overwhelmed with sadness. When I’m writing lyrics I’m listening to the music that those guys are sending me and usually drinking wine and just sort of falling into it, sort of losing myself and just writing down thoughts. As much as I try to not be so heavy, it’s just so much fun to think about these things and write songs about that stuff. “Sorrow” is almost a pop song to me. It’s a catchy ditty about sorrow.

- m. berninger

american mary.