(via workofgirl on Instagram)


Oh Bukowski, I do love you.

The present age with its sudden enthusiasms followed by apathy and indolence is very near the comic; but those who understand the comic see quite clearly that the comic is not where the present age imagines… The really comic thing is that an age such as this should try to be witty and humorous; for that is most certainly the last and most acrobatic way out of the impasse. What, indeed, is there for an age of reflection and thought to defy with humour? For, being without passion, it has lost all feeling for the values of eros, for enthusiasm and sincerity in politics and religion, or for piety, admiration and domesticity in everyday life.
Søren Kierkegaard. “The Present Age.”

by: へり

Asking you about shit.

Mreow. :3

Those who shun the “bad taste” of things will fall on their faces in the snow.
Pablo Neruda. Toward An Impure Poetry.
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries!
blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible mad houses
granite cocks! monstrous bombs!
They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios,
tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive
Allen Ginsberg. Howl II