March 7th, 2012

From How to Paint Sunlight

I asked a hundred painters and a hundred poets
how to paint sunlight
on the face of life
Their answers were ambiguous and ingenuous
as if they were all guarding trade secrets
Whereas it seems to me
all you have to do
is conceive of the whole world
and all humanity
as a kind of art work

(Source: kingozymandias)

March 6th, 2012
February 10th, 2012
“I’m a little black rain cloud, of course”
“Silly old bear”

“I’m a little black rain cloud, of course”
“Silly old bear”

The bottoms of my shoes

are clean

from walking in the rain.

-Jack Kerouac

It is the sun streaming down in the meshes of morning

It is the sun streaming down in the meshes of morning

February 9th, 2012
Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known

Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known

Some people care too much, I think it’s called love.

Some people care too much, I think it’s called love.

February 2nd, 2012

theletupmusic:

….you know how Lil Wayne co-signed Drake?
And then Drake co-signed the Weeknd??
Yeah…
We’re over the “celebrity co-sign” too. So instead, we’re after YOUR co-sign Toronto. 

Meet The Let Up

Click here for a free download of our new single: NYC Diesel
http://hu.lk/8562xj4f2t5f

Skittles,
TLU 

@theletupmusic
theletupmusic.tumblr.com

January 25th, 2012

Decline of Values

wwnorton:

I’m reading a B.A. thesis
on the decline of values. Logically,
falling implies a height from which
to fall, and who’s that stupid?

Life is neither up nor down, and still less
in between. Life has no idea
of up and down, fullness and void, before
and after. And knows zip about the present.

Tear up your pages, ditch them in the sewer,
abandon your degree and you can brag
that you were momentarily alive (maybe).

Eugenio Montale, from The Collected Poems

January 7th, 2012

wwnorton:

[Ray Hill] came out to his family when he was eighteen. His mother took a long drag from her cigarette and a sip of her coffee and said, “Well, that’s a relief.” “What?” he asked. Late 1950s Houston was not a tolerant time and place for homosexuals, especially in the blue-collar, religiously…