This is actually very much not true, and rather naive conceptual thinking.
(Source: ffffffound, via evermorelighter)
Anselm Kiefer - Emanation, 1984-86
(via soundsgalore)
London town is calling me.
Rest in peace brother, you gave us all so much.
the badass blaze foley
Dreamiest
…and all the federales say
they coulda had him any day,
they only let him hang around
out of kindness I suppose.
(Source: darkmylight)
[video]
Townes Van Zandt, the ultimate drinking music.
tumblr scroll poem #2
These are my unnamed tomorrows.
I struck a match and incinerated your bourgeois ideals,
your Chelsea flower show personality
and motorcycle Nazi paradise.
“I keep thinking you already know. I keep thinking I’ve sent you letters that were only ever written in my mind.”
I don’t remember any journeys and we have no place left to go.
At the tamalpais moteI I left
for Los Angeles on the San Francisco Express. The beaches
there keep secrets on how we used to send
good morning notes and know that relief
was only a coffee away.
“Where to miss?”
I could stitch desires into your thighs
and frame you against white brick,
the boats by the mountains
take me to the frozen revolution.
These are my unnamed tomorrows,
lined with encounters of disappointment.
Zao Wou-Ki, 17-3-63, 1963
(via twelve1seven)
the-sun-is-but-a-morning-star:
untitled by Sara Gossett on Flickr.
(Source: myselfixion, via 1bohemian)
[video]