Rogiaeu
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(via banacrisp)

posted Tuesday 01/24/2012 Permalink
"In the experience of shame, one’s whole being seems diminished or lessened. In my experience of shame, the other sees all of me and all through me, even if the occasion of shame is on my surface—for instance, in my appearance; and the expression of shame, in general, as well as in the particular form of it that is embarrassment, is not just the desire to hide, or to hide my face, but the desire to disappear, not to be there. It is not even the wish, as people say, to sink through the floor, but rather the wish that the space occupied by me should be instantaneously empty. With guilt it is not like this. I am more dominated by the thought that even if I disappeared, it would come with me."
posted Sunday 01/22/2012 Permalink

NYC

posted Wednesday 01/18/2012 Permalink

Blogging?

What’s that? All I do is work and paint.

things to come:

making a new painting portfolio/sketch blog

releasing music.

more life.

I don’t know who still looks at this ole blog o’ mine,

but I do miss all of the connections and interactions I’ve had with you guys.

So, that being said, I hope you’ve all been blessed in your lives. And despite your discorporate forms, you hold a special place in my heart. I hope we connect more soon.

posted Sunday 01/15/2012 Permalink

Echo Lake - Buried at Sea

posted Monday 12/12/2011 Permalink

There used to be stuff here.

soon enough there will be again.

posted Saturday 12/10/2011 Permalink
posted Saturday 12/03/2011 Permalink

        NEW PALETTE   

   ———————

                 THESE

                   ARE

                   THE

               COLORS

 

   ———————

   ——————— 

   I still find them here.

posted Saturday 12/03/2011 Permalink
"She tells her love while half asleep,
In the dark hours,
With half words whispered low:
As earth stirs in her winter sleep
And puts out grass and flowers
Despite the snow,
Despite the falling snow."

Robert Graves // She Tells Her Love While Half Asleep

posted Saturday 12/03/2011 Permalink

Diaphanous

This mist,

a malediction over every sentence,

thereupon these words of affection,

works with soft hands

into my inner disposition.  

You can be that voice of solace

that forges a binary sanctum,

a representation

of how you would be

were it not for our limitations.

posted Saturday 12/03/2011 Permalink

Fever Ray - When I Grow Up

posted Saturday 12/03/2011 Permalink
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palliative (lovely)

(Source: gracetheocean, via gracetheocean)

posted Thursday 12/01/2011 Permalink