Lonely & Warm

Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we’re still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It’s all the same impulse. What do we get from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get?
At the very least we want a witness. We can’t stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio winding down.

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—	Margaret Atwood (via suzywire)

Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.

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—	Ray Bradbury (via thechocolatebrigade)

Amy Rebecca Klein: A Letter to Conor Oberst »

amyandronicus:

Dear Conor,

I want to tell you what your music means to me, but I don’t know how. So instead, let me tell you a story….

When I was sixteen, I lived in a New Jersey town divided neatly into picket fence squares and dotted at even intervals with quiet houses with shut doors. In the morning, like a…

Aphorisms on Futurism »

I can’t imagine that what picture it will be once this poem was posted with a camera magazine with those kinds of old photos. every present self is so difficult that we are either eager to look back or penetrate into tomorrows.