Day 6: A Song You Can Relate to
DAWES - “BEDSIDE MANNER”
I’ll be somebody now, and I’ll be somebody then,
And I’ll be all of you all in between.
And then I’ll be ready to leave
When the whole world is taken with me.
Good news for people who love bad news.
We’ve lost the plot and we just can’t choose.
We are hummingbirds who are just not willing to move.
And there’s good news for people who love bad news.
We are hummingbirds who’ve lost the plot and we will not move.
We have good news for anyone who loves bad news.
We were aiming for the moon. We were shooting at the stars.
But the kids were just shooting at the busses and the cars.
So don’t drink the water, don’t you breathe the air.
If it’s gotten to that point then I have to declare
Modest Mouse- Bury Me With It
"What any true painting touches is an absence - an absence of which without the painting, we might be unaware. And that would be our loss"
"History says, Don’t hope
On this side of the grave,
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme"
"It is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning.
For every one of us, living in this world
means waiting for our end. Let whoever can
win glory before death. When a warrior is gone, that will be his best and only bulwark."
"Art is not in some far-off place."
Rastrophiliopustrocity is a barrage of creative random thoughts, images, and ideas that spontaneously overwhelms the right brain, which then becomes immediately exercised when paired with discernment through the left brain under spacious awareness from an empty point.
Walk with me, hand in hand through the neon and styrofoam. Walk the razor blades and the broken hearts. Walk the fortune and the fortune hunted. Walk the chop suey bars and the tract of stars.
I know I am a fool, hoping dirt and glory are both a kind of luminous paint; the humiliations and exaltations that light us up. I see like a bug, everything too large, the pressure of infinity hammering at my head. But how else to live, vertical that I am, pressed down and pressing up simultaneously? I cannot assume you will understand me. It is just as likely that as I invent what I want to say, you will invent what you want to hear. Some story we must have. Stray words on crumpled paper. A weak signal into the outer space of each other.
The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love.
Jeanette Winterson, Gut Symmetries