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SUCCUMB TO THE URGE OF CREATING. [x]

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the freeborne sisters and their doomed relationships 1) paul "road kill" anderson//felicia freeborne 2) katharine "kit-kat" freeborne//bellatrix kelly

#my ocs #starton #flavia's drawings #flavia writes #artists on tumblr

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Every 10 Minutes!!!!!!

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people online: robert fripp is lowkey kinda scary guys...

average robert fripp interview:

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As with the horse poll, please regard these options as sliders. The extent to which each one deviates from 1/6th of the total will determine the amount that canine aspect deviates from the "average."

I will draw the dog we make. :)

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lou reed im literally begging you on my bruised and bloody knees

for what? idk. i don’t even know what i would want from you. i don’t know what i would say.

it would depend on a lot of factors like if it was at a show or whatever it doesn’t matter

i have so many things i want to say but i don’t think id say any of them, they all would scatter like crows as you approach.

thats what happens anytime anyone says anything to me. my thoughts and opinions are as timid as a kitten, having been forced down my whole life in a vain attempt to not alienate anyone.

i don’t even know if i have opinions of my own or if i just stole them so long ago i’ve lost the origin and decided they must be my own. i dont mean anything because i have nothing to say

well, is this nothing? its not really anything but its definitely something. hahaha that sentence was nothing though.

but is there a core to what i’m saying? some central idea im just not smart enough to find? is there any meaning in these characters im typing that correspond to sounds?

is the meaning really there or did you imagine it?

will it change as the meanings of words change?

let me rephrase that:

will IT change, or will the changing of the meaning of words just change how its interpreted?

and does how people perceive it not factor in to the ‘it-ness’ of the thing?

for instance how i perceive myself is far different from how you on here perceive me, which is different from how my coworkers do, and my family, friends, and down on an individual level everyone sees everyone else in a completely different way, through the lens of them. all the events that made them up, and how they see the world factors into how they see you,

so which of these is the truest interpretation of a person? is it how they see themselves? or how someone who has known then since birth see them? is it their lover, who sees parts of them they might not even know about?

is it some amalgamation of all these things?

are we, as we see ourselves, a message trapped in a bottle? floating in the sea of how everyone else sees us. encased in how we present ourselves to the world?

that might be a bad metaphor ive been listening to the police (band)

but my point is………….

who are we and what do we want, and how do we know that?

to my friends from high school, assuming they still think about me, im a david bowie obsessed freak who plays skyrim 24/7, obsessively reads darth vader comics and is kinda shit at guitar

now i wouldn’t say im a new man, but i love lou reed, i dont play video games much anymore, im more artistic now in a writing sort of way when back then i was more into paints and oils and shit

anyway the main thing that’s different is my personality ig like the things i say how i interact with people whatever

im different in that way

i think anyway………..

i really don’t know

that should be my catch phrase

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hello… yes? Lou Reed? Yes, well

im sick of it here and i feel like the flowers growing in antarctica

so beautifully out of place

i don’t even know how i got here, i just am and this is how im coping. do any of us belong anywhere or do we just inhabit spaces?

and what is liminal about lighting your cigarette as you go down the highway,

freezing that moment in time, lighter to unlit cigarette

flames not yet born, but sparks wait to give way

its transitional,

you don’t keep lighting your cigarette its either lit or unlit

you cant keep this ‘liminal’ transitional moment.

how ive tried to hold on; grasping at wet paper

playing with lighters, taking photos of these in between moments

but its never enough, sunsets fade to night,

cigarettes light, and flower buds blossom

was the homeostasis of our planet liminal? transitionary between two kinds of uninhabitable?

better yet, is life the liminal space between non existence?

is the existence of the universe, therefore, the liminal space between infinite nothings stretching in both directions?

stars, by their nature, burn out. their lives are finite, are they transitionary states for the atoms that make them up?

stars are the liminal space between free floating hydrogen and helium atoms and the heavier elements that will make up their descendants, in the form of new stars and planets

the vast tendrils of galaxies are the liminal spaces between the voids,

and its what we call home

so do we occupy space? i dont know i guess that i just don’t know

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melon barn is a lot of things to a lot of people; for some a home, a place to be themselves, a place to share their soul, a place to dump gravel, maybe even the only place where they aren’t an outsider.

the only place im not left sidelined is in the pit,

and so as i look around myself, deep into a song, deep in the mosh pit, sliding gracelessly across sweat slicked, drunken bodies, i see dozens of eyes staring up through smeared makeup at the band, at the ceiling, at each other.

this is a place of people. of music, and of human contact. human connection.

in between sets i find myself sitting alone, outside in the grass. i wonder briefly why whiteclaw and celsius taste exact the same, gazing at the barn, when im hit by the sudden realization that this is one of the last times ill be here.

where else in the world will i go to hear brief snippets of conversations about who here is, in fact, mothman? or the dutch colonizing the island of trash in the ocean?

where will all these freaks see each other again? will we find our way back to each other in basements and garages at house shows?

or maybe in the dimly lit paper moon studios?

but nothing will ever be the same. as the barn.

in the pit, with eyes closed, i move toward body heat like a moth to a warm light. this is my sun, my life-giving force.

these rust colored walls that remind me of a deep martian canyon, these twinkly lights dangling from barn to trees, all across the yard; they shine proudly, hanging there like our own stars.

like the cheapest imitation of god.

(thank you lou reed)

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snails are the universe/god’s way of saying “thanks for watching”

like little care packages in the hunger games

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imagine telling '66 lou that he would have the chance of collaborating with lana del rey

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DAVID BYRNE I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUUU

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I hate when an artist gets exposed for being a bad person and people start the narrative “why would you even want to listen to their shitty music” when are we going to be freed from the idea that only good people create good art and bad people create bad art. It just makes it harder for these types of people to be exposed because now you got people thinking “how is this possible, his music is so good!”

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male athletes are so darksided wishing their wives a happy bday on socials always goes something like “thanks for everything you do for ME! you’re hot! and you’re a good mom i guess lol” meanwhile their bday posts to their teammates are like “you’re my everything we have gone through ups and downs together seen each other at our worst and best everyday i think about how lucky i am to know you you have changed my life for the better the world is lucky to have had you in it for this long already and looking forward to so many more years of being your everything” like get real