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RIP Tim Hetherington

Apr. 22nd, 2011 | 02:32 pm

“I don’t know if it was worth dying for—what is?—but it was certainly an idea worth devoting one’s life to. Which is what you did. What a vision you had, my friend. What a goddamned terrible, beautiful vision of things.”

"That’s also part of what you died for: the decision to live a life that was thrown open to all the beauty and misery and ugliness and joy in the world."

"The funny thing about war is that people feel you need to be morally outraged. I feel morally outraged about it, and I've been doing it for long enough to feel morally outraged, because I have been in massacre scenes in West Africa, and I've been doing this for a long time now. So I don't need to have my credentials and go up on the stage and say 'Feel moral outrage about the war.' I'm trying to communicate to you what's going on in the war, and moral outrage really just gets in the way. If you say to an audience, 'Who here feels there shouldn't be war?' I can guarantee everyone would put their hand up, but that doesn't mean you're any wiser about why the war's happening, or what it's like to be in the war. There are more important things we have to communicate, rather than have the consensus of 'Oh, we're journalists, and we think this is bad.'"

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Chuck Klosterman

Apr. 10th, 2011 | 08:38 pm

"Art and love are the same thing: it's the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you."

“People who talk about their dreams are actually trying to tell you things about themselves they’d never admit in normal conversation.”

“We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime, It’s easy. … They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it always happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of those lovable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. You will remember having conversations with this person that never actually happened. You will recall sexual trysts with this person that never technically occurred. This is because the individual who embodies your personal definition of love does not really exist. The person is real, and the feelings are real – but you create the context. And context is everything. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.”


“Every relationship is fundamentally a power struggle, and the individual in power is whoever likes the other person less.”

If you define your personality as creative, it only means you understand what is perceived to be creative by the world at large, so you’re really just following a rote creative template. That’s the opposite of creativity. Everybody is wrong about everything, just about all the time.

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(no subject)

Aug. 8th, 2010 | 09:56 pm

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(no subject)

Jun. 28th, 2010 | 10:40 pm

Imperfection is beauty; madness is genius. And it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.
- Marilyn Monroe

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(no subject)

May. 24th, 2010 | 07:34 pm

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming– “Wow! What a ride!

- Hunter S. Thompson

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(no subject)

Jan. 18th, 2010 | 09:42 pm

The stars are the apexes of what wonderful triangles! What distant and different beings in the various mansions of the universe are contemplating the same one at the same moment!

- Henry David Thoreau

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(no subject)

Jan. 11th, 2010 | 08:34 pm

Air Empathy by Jeffrey McDaniel

On the red-eye from Seattle, a two year-old
in the seat behind me screeches

his little guts out. Instead of dreaming
of stuffing a wad of duct tape

into his mouth, I envy him, how he lets
his pain hang out. I wish I too could drill

a pipeline into the fields of ache, tap
a howl. How long would I need to sob

before the lady beside me dropped
her fashion rag, dipped a palm

into the puddle of me? How many
squeals before another passenger

joined in? Soon the stewardess hunched
over the drink cart, the pilot gushing

into the controls, the entire plane, an arrow

of grief, quivering through the sky.

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(no subject)

Dec. 28th, 2009 | 09:38 pm


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Ugh.

Dec. 24th, 2009 | 04:13 pm

Let's take a look at my family.

Dad (50 something): Disappointed that both of his children suck at math (none of us got that gene). Disappointed that my brother chose to go to Oberlin instead of Dartmouth. Loves skiing and frequently goes on ski trips alone (nobody else in our family wants to go). Too intelligent to function.

Mom (40 something): No social skills. Extremely paranoid about the most trivial and stupid things. Spends 10 minutes preparing for phone calls. Hates me. Does not have any hobbies besides for complaining. Sucks at cooking. Disappointed in me.

Brother (20): Extremely smart and creative. Good at school and everything he puts his mind to. Overachiever. Hates coming home because my parents are annoying.

Me
(15): Fashion obsessed weirdo. Underachiever. Wants to be famous. Not good at anything except knowing the names of fashion models, and spending too much time on the computer. Bad eating habits (all I eat is salad, teddy grahams, hummus, and applesauce). "Bad" grades (A's and B's).

So functional! Love us.

Now, let's take a look at what we'll be doing for Christmas

My Dad went on a skiing trip by himself two days ago and just called, saying that he's too tired to come home (aka doesn't want to here my Mom bitching), so he'll be home late tomorrow.

My brother wants to excape our house so he's leaving tomorrow to go hang out with his girlfriend for a few days.

I'm stuck at home with my Mom who'll just bitch about my grades and every other thing. Little does she know that I got a 600 on my SAT II (fail), 66% on my math test (fail), and 81% on an important chem test (slightly less, but still, fail).

Merry Christmas!

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(no subject)

Dec. 20th, 2009 | 01:31 pm

So good. I can't breathe.

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