December 2011
50 posts
My last art history class of the semester was spent reviewing for the exam by playing charades, which equated to a bunch of stereotypical looking art students posing sluttily in front of a chalkboard. Who knew the crucifixion could be so hot?
Fuck the sword. Give me ballpoints and loose end. Splitting hairs in half like pills to the bitter end of our days. Not phased by the haze that we peer through, eyes glazed, fixed gaze in the rear view. Blazed from the head to the souls of his new shoes. Snooze ‘til you lose sight of the good news.
Din kärlek var främmande för mig. Det gav mig känslan av att vara människa kanske inte är så fel. Det är en sådan envis påminnelse när perfekta nätter inte är tillräckligt.
“I meet you. I remember you. Who are you? You’re destroying me. You’re good for...”
– Marguerite Duras, Hiroshima Mon Amour
