Sensual Idiot

Listen to the flowers grow.
Home Letter to the girl that ate my skin Themes


was going to write a poem then remembered i can’t

Point a camera at someone and you may get a gun pointed back at you - this isn’t surprising and has been happening in some form or other from the beginning of time. You shoot the messenger. You destroy the documents. You murder the scientists. Information obliterates authority’s ability to govern without accountability. Information is the most valuable asset. 

“The dangers of being an American artist are not greater than those of being an artist anywhere else in the world, but they are very particular. These dangers are produced by our history. They rest on the fact that in order to conquer this continent, the particular aloneness of which I speak—the aloneness in which one discovers that life is tragic, and therefore unutterably beautiful—could not be permitted.”

— James Baldwin (via howitzerliterarysociety)

“Maybe it’s just in America, but it seems that if you’re passionate about something, it freaks people out. You’re considered bizarre or eccentric. To me, it just means you know who you are.”

Tim Burton (via bettychantel)

Sadly it seems to be like that around the world.

(via sci-universe)


Katiejane Garside photographed by Barry Henderson 


Then you see lights, lights of all different colors, these lights are the doors that pull you into other planes of existence, but most people actually like this world so much, that they don’t want to be taken away”

Enter the Void (2009)
Gaspar Noé

“The man in ecstasy and the man drowning—both throw up their arms.”

— Franz Kafka, Blue Octavo Notebooks  (via neuseks)

“You are allowed to be alive. You are allowed to be somebody different. You are allowed to not say goodbye to anybody or explain a single thing to anyone, ever.”

— Augusten Burroughs   (via feellng)

Are you ever driving around with someone in the dark and you realize you actually enjoy the silence that blooms between the two of you because it’s an indication of understanding and appreciation of life, a mutual agreement that not every goddamn moment has to be filled with obtrusive noise and small talk? That you can just fucking relax and enjoy this moment when you don’t have to put your armor up with humor or back filled talk from the black matter in your brain, because you can feel the energy passing back and forth is a calm, energized one and the silence is not anger or some misplaced tactic so that you’ll speak or ask what’s wrong because if you don’t maybe it means the dissolution of your entire relationship? 

I mean, man, Four Loko has 12.0% Alcohol volume?!!! Fuck, I’m wasted.

This is a formal thank you to all the people who gave me advice I didn’t ask for and subsequently ignored. Your $0.02 is worth less to me than the materials it was made out of, and was most likely downright harmful to my well-being. But go ahead and congratulate me for “making something out of my life.” It was done despite your best intentions to fuck me over. 

“I walked around the hotel searching for party suites. Whenever I found one, I slipped inside the room and ate as much food as I could within the confines of my macros. I also drank any alcohol within reach, talking shit about horror writers more than anybody as I became drunker and louder. They’re the worst of any genre. The least literary and the least style-oriented and the least educated. They all wish they were H.P. Lovecraft. They don’t understand that Lovecraft was really just a Klansman with an underbite. And horror publishers and editors don’t know what a typo is. But they’re run by people—men, almost invariably—who perceive themselves as intelligent and supercool and in possession of interminable registers of sex appeal. Let me assure you: you’ve never seen a human being with less sex appeal than a horror publisher, or a horror editor, or a horror writer.”

— D. Harlan Wilson, The Biographizer Trilogy

“Let people feel the weight of who you are and let them deal with it.”

— John Eldridge  (via awelltraveledwoman)