amour propre

This is the sound Jupiter emits via electromagnetic waves. 10 min

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I have had to experience so much stupidity, so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow, just in order to become a child again and begin anew. I had to experience despair, I had to sink to the greatest mental depths, to thoughts of suicide, in order to experience grace.
Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha 
Anonymous asked what kind of people are you drawn towards?


there are a lot of people who want things from one another, who want to take parts of each other and claim them as their own. it’s draining, like you’re being hollowed out slowly, slowly, burned out and carved into a boat for their use. but there are few people, there are a handful of people who i have met in this life, who i have loved and who have loved me so symbiotically. it’s not a matter of who i am drawn to. to build a criteria for my ideal whatever would be to narrow the choices down to what i know, and leave out all the rest of what i have to learn, what i have yet to see in a person. but passion. passion! the terrible and wonderful desire to be bigger than oneself, to leave a mark, however small, on this earth. i love those who are always running, who are full of movement, who appreciate those empty streets at five a.m., those who i can call up for an adventure and they’re always down. bring me to your beautiful places. to your mountain peaks. to the places you grew up. and let me do the same for you, and understand that it’s important, all of it, not so much the stories that we tell each other but the ways we tell them, the ways we move together, yes. find meaning in everything, and i’ll love you. i’m not very good at people. i mean, in a very shallow plane i am. i’m good at instant things, good at touch-and-go, at making a brief and wonderful impact and then running the other way, laughing, but there are those who get it, and who will stand still with me in a moment and just look out, together, at this world, and it’s like, sometimes you meet a person and you can just feel it, this connection between the two of you. like the air between you is thicker in a way. it makes me so nervous and i crave it, i crave it endlessly. it’s happened a lot lately, and i’m grateful for it. and you can’t explain it, really, but you feel it in your heart so deeply that it must be real, right? there are so many kinds of people in this world, so many colors of humans that i have yet to experience. i fill my life with people whose colors eddy with mine in such a way that we create a new color between us, a color that can’t be replicated with any other. good people, kind people, hardworking who are in tune with the pulse of things, who can talk me into a frenzy, who don’t shy away from their hurt, but who let it deepen their sense of being, who will look me in the eye without either of us turning away. the crazy ones, i guess. the ones who are so loved, but so difficult to understand. those who are willing to create new stories together, not just retell the ones of our past. 

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow; but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
Agatha Christie
I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, Kiss me harder, and You’re a good person, and, You brighten my day. I live my life as straight-forward as possible.
Because one day, I might get hit by a bus.

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands.

But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate.

And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care.

We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans.

We never know when the bus is coming.
Lewis, Rachel C.. Tell The People You Love That You Love Them.
I’m half afraid of myself. I sometimes feel that no one ever has or ever can share something—It’s the thing that makes you call me like a hill, or a rock. Again, I want everything—love, adventure, intimacy, work. (Can you make any sense out of this ramble? I am putting down one thing after another.) So I go from being half in love with you, and wanting you to be with me always, and known everything about me, to the extreme of wildness and aloofness.
Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Leonard Woolf
I am not one person; I am many people; I do not altogether know who I am —
Virginia Woolf, from The Waves
I’m quite naturally a loving, affectionate person. But then, even that can get to be a bore.
Anne Sexton, from A Self-Portrait In Letters
You recognize your insignificance?…Recognize it before God; perhaps, too, in the presence of beauty, intelligence, nature, but not before people. Among people you must be conscious of your dignity. Why, you are not a rascal, you are an honest man, aren’t you? Well, respect yourself as an honest man and know that an honest man is not something worthless. Don’t confound "being humble" with "recognizing one’s worthlessness."
Anton Chekhov, from a letter to Mihail Chekhov
I have shaken off what is extraneous to me: people, friends and enemies, habits, comforts, books; I live in solitude […]
Friedrich Nietzsche, from Selected Letters

Sóley - Pretty Face

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gena rowlands in a woman under the influence
After some reflection it has struck me that I am very ungrateful and childish with my irritating despair, for I have been thinking how incomparably lucky I have been during the last few years and how little I can gauge how rich I am in my friends. Truth to tell, I live through you; I advance by leaning upon your shoulders, for my self-esteem is wretchedly weak and you have to assure me of my own value again and again. But what I feel most is the way you outstrip me in loving solicitude and unselfishness.
Friedrich Nietzsche, from Selected Letters
I am on the verge of desperation and have scarcely any hope left. My sufferings have been too great, too persistent.
Friedrich Nietzsche, from Selected Letters