I’m becoming increasingly obsessed with one of my teachers at uni. She’s probably the most interesting and bizarre person I’ve encountered in my life. I guess it would be weird if I asked her if she wanted to have a sleep over, huh? I just want to dig through her brain and see where she’s at!
I used to love when you’d touch one of those fuzzy things in yoshi’s island, and all of a sudden shit would get real trippy, like you were on some hallucinogenic shit.
these games made my childhood
you get to this age, right, and all of a sudden things become so difficult. life becomes so difficult. you do more and want more and think more. and for me, it’s all that thinking that makes things so horrible. like when i was a kid, it was so easy. you’d see bad things happening or witness stuff you probably shouldn’t but it’s kind of okay because chances are you’re not going to think about it. it won’t bother you so much, you know? it’s only when you get to this age that all that stuff comes back to you. you no longer just exist in the present seconds of life but you dive into the past and the future. you think about death and after death and life before life. and if you’re like me you waste thought space on wondering, oh hey imagine if this happened instead of that other thing that happened. i’m always thinking about shit that could have or should have or would have happened that probably won’t, don’t and can’t happen. it’s exhausting. i’m exhausted by all this thinking.
there’s something kinda nice about being drenched by the rain.
it’s like all I can think about is being in this like, really small room with you
a room with tearing yellow wallpaper and smoky lighting
a large window
no curtains
a bed
no bed frame.
i think about this music playing
accompanying the movement of our bodies
something rhythmic, rhyming, good timing
something chill
something with a beat
something to make me feel on the outside
like the way we’d make each other feel on the inside
and it’d be like floating in this vacant space of time that no one really knows about
no one but us.
it’s all i can think about.
beware those who seek constant crowds for they are nothing alone
-Charles Bukowski, The Genius of The Crowd
It was like he had cracks in his skull; open gates into his mind. By this point, all the imaginary bandaids he’d plastered on over the years had fallen off. He was completely exposed to us. And vulnerable without ever knowing so. Random thoughts spilled out of him. Thoughts of his boyhood days or the war or the girls he lusted over. It was like a thick, sticky glue seeping out of those cracks. A glue that held his mind steady. It was all falling apart now; he was falling apart. The cloudy fog of his past suffocating his sanity like a toxic gas.
When you’ve got nothing left but nostalgia, who cares if you go mad? It’s a good way to go. That’s what I think, anyway. But what do I know.
Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions.
-Susan Cain, Quiet
