"Home is in my hair, my lips, my arms, my thighs, my feet and my hands. I am my own home. And when I wake up crying in the morning, thinking of how lonely I am, I pinch my skin, tug at my hair, remind myself that I am alive. Remind myself to step outside and greet the morning. Remind myself that it’s all about forward motion. It’s all about change. It’s all about that elusive state.
Freedom."

Diriye Osman, Fairytales for Lost Children  (via 33113)

(via sakkeh3arja)

Posted 17 hours ago

Chilling on Tumblr while my students do evaluations. They will probably say I’m unfair.

Posted 17 hours ago
"I have always had a problem with the shoeshine business, and even on the rare occasions when I wished to have my scuffed shoes cleaned, some egalitarian spirit kept me from doing so; it felt ridiculous to mount the elevated chairs in the shops and have someone kneel before me. It wasn’t, as I often said to myself, the kind of relationship I wanted to have with another person."

— Teju Cole

Posted 6 days ago
"Feelings are like water, they always adapt to their surroundings. Not even the worst grief leaves traces; when it feels so overwhelming and lasts for such a long time, it is not because the feelings have set, they can’t do that, they stand still, the way water in a forest stands still."

— My Struggle vol. 1, Knausgaard (via kelsfjord)

(via sakkeh3arja)

Posted 1 week ago

tight

illingsworth:

just had a cool conversation with a respectful young rapper. if you’re doing mixtapes and you’re using beats without permission, be aware that it might not be a cool thing to that particular producer. everybody’s different. if you’re a rapper that cares, find out what needs to be done to make it…

I want heaters from Doc

Posted 1 week ago
"Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them."

— Brian Eno, A Year With Swollen Appendices (via conradtao)

(Source: sincerely-rebekah, via rljd)

Posted 1 week ago