Behind every feeling of guilt is a motivation.

hell bent on the anvil of society

fakefashiontokyo:

The Official Fake Fashion Loud Music t-shirt is travelling the globe. If you’re interested, drop us a line. Thanks for listening!jacoblincoln:

DJ Smoothface sent me a tee from his first series of screen prints in Japan! So dope! 💩💫

"I’m trying to think, don’t confuse me with facts."

nevver:

Let me

On Meditation:

The more I practice the less I have to say. I stopped thinking about things and started experiencing them more. I have significantly less to complain about and am grateful for significantly more. Though I may feel my fair share of bullshit, I know longer subscribe to mood. 

Jung said that loneliness stems from being unable to express the things that are important to you. On one level I have become significantly less lonely because I am more aware of what I’m like and need and generally want or don’t want. I have stopped feeding confusion as much and started feeding what has always been most important to me which is everything that makes everything important but can hardly be stated. This is the part that makes me feel significantly more lonely. There is someone/many people who probably are trying to draw out form from whatever this ‘feeling’ is, which is, even if silently, some deep connection. A really strong fucking power that everyone has but not all have even a beginning to handle it with. Even as I feel my writing picking up, being more successful, even approaching the point to where I feel I am handling something that I can grow into and learn from as opposed to create/control, I still feel that something is desperately missing in the medium. Almost feel that you have to be a liar or severely depressed for your heart not to hit that wall that screams, ‘this shit is not enough.’

Art is not enough.

Lack of spontaneity is something every artist suffers from (at some point). I think it has a lot to do with that: art as a job. Art as a product. The attachment to manifesting something as opposed to being consumed by what you are manifesting.

Life is multi-faceted. You can know what you want to be or want to make or what you want to have and where you want to live but what kind of life do you want to live? Fuck all concepts of what comes with an occupation. An occupation is less than a quarter of your life and identity I feel like…

Once shared a dream with a girl who also shared an interest in parapsychology, meditation, and dream analysis. Jungian concepts of synchronicity—
she summarized it by saying that I had something that I felt was fundamentally beneficial to people (power/ability/talent/feeling/contribution) and to myself but did not have a conscious enough awareness of it to explain it in a way that made people understand it beyond something between mood and spirit. Which is like, so vague, but also really true. Something I feel as a fundamental truth about myself. Like my life practice is the opposite of discovering molecular structure or how things work—who cares? I feel like this shit only ruins your hopes of starting to like yourself and your world anyway.

[The point of mentioning this is that other people can see it/experience it with me, and experience it on the same level that I am experiencing it. This knowing/not knowing.]

But stilling your mind and being able to experience anything as if it were all on the same plane, without words—it does something to you.
The gnashing idiotic white gnoise that was happening before not only stops for a moment but stops for most of the time. You stop buffering your emotions from your actions but act in a way more aligned with how you experience and want to experience life. You stop buffering your actions from your own intentions with a narrative about why they happened or what you want yourself to be like and how you want that action to mean, you just watch. 

How much can you say about that?

What is the opposite of inbetween?
What is inbetween nothing, everything, and everything in between?

(Something. The thing…)

It could just mean that I need a more experiential process/medium.

Music, visual art, acting, film making, boxing…

It’s a fucking Koan!

I am honestly so much more confident and comfortable around all kinds of people but also feel distinctly less interested in speculating about their experiences. 

Which makes literature feel like a caveman trying to build a goddamn computer. The novel is conceptual art! FUCK.

But how do I explain it to someone? That I am as feral/primal/instinctual as I am ‘high-minded’ and spiritual. Both poles at once. And people who meet me in person, who have known me for a long time have that to say most often. The second most common is that I’m ‘mysterious.’ Which is so funny because I feel like I never shut the fuck up.

I used to be a head and now I’m just blood.

on nights you eat to sleep:
masturbating to a cousin,
talking to God like you used to…
still starving

meteor-falls:

Tangela / Call of Legends