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Plainclothes man

Plainclothes man

Well you shouldn’t doctor yourself

Well you shouldn’t doctor yourself

Well I wrote your name and burned it
to see the color of the flame.
And it burned out the whole spectrum
as if you were everything.
Mine just burned gold,
a normal flame.
I am
not anything.
Brand New, “Good Man”
Trout, incidentally, had written a book about a money tree. It had twenty-dollar bills for leaves. Its flowers were government bonds. Its fruit was diamonds. It attracted human beings who killed each other around the roots and made very good fertilizer.
Kurt Vonnegut, “Slaughterhouse-Five”

She loved him but he was not ready to be loved.

The sterilized pocket of small city streets

Fits neatly inside a two sheriff seat.

There’s a girl that drives through

and smiles at me

Her eyes are alive and learning to see.

Our distance grows with miles and lanes

until watching the clock is all that remains.

And older she gets with each new pass

Showing symptoms of sadness and unhappiness

It’s wisdom she gains but rubber she burns

the road is unpaved but she knows all the turns.

humansofnewyork:

I normally go into my conversations with a set of proven questions to ask, that I find will elicit a wide variety of anecdotes from people’s lives: happiest moment, saddest moment, things like that. But with people fleeing war, it is absolutely impossible to discuss anything beyond the present moment. Their circumstances are so overpowering, there is absolutely zero room in their minds for any other thoughts. The conversation immediately stalls, because any topic of conversation beyond their present despair seems grossly inappropriate. You realize that without physical security, no other layers of the human experience can exist. “All day they do is cry for home,” she told me. (Dohuk, Iraq)

humansofnewyork:

I normally go into my conversations with a set of proven questions to ask, that I find will elicit a wide variety of anecdotes from people’s lives: happiest moment, saddest moment, things like that. But with people fleeing war, it is absolutely impossible to discuss anything beyond the present moment. Their circumstances are so overpowering, there is absolutely zero room in their minds for any other thoughts. The conversation immediately stalls, because any topic of conversation beyond their present despair seems grossly inappropriate. You realize that without physical security, no other layers of the human experience can exist. “All day they do is cry for home,” she told me. (Dohuk, Iraq)

Within a short time, however, the father had begun to find this other woman kind of tedious and oppressive, as well. The fact that they lived separate lives and had little to talk about made the sex start to seem obligatory. It put too much weight on the physical sex, it seemed, and spoiled it. The father attempted to cool things off and to see the woman less, whereupon she in return also began to seem less interested and accessible than she had been. This was when the torture started. The father began to fear that the woman would break off the affair with him, either to resume monogamous sex with her husband or to take up with some other man. This fear, which was a completely secret and interior torture, caused him to pursue the woman all over again even as he came more and more to despise her. The father, in short, longed to detach from the woman, but he didn’t want the woman to be able to detach. He began to feel numb and even nauseated when he was with the other woman, but when he was away from her he felt tortured by thoughts of her with someone else. It seemed like an impossible situation, and the dreams of contorted suffocation came back more and more often. The only possible remedy that the father (whose son had just turned four) could see was not to detach from the woman he was having an affair with but to hang in there with the affair, but also to find and begin seeing a third woman, in secret and as it were “on the side,” in order to feel—if only for a short time—the relief and excitement of an attachment freely chosen.
David Foster Wallace, ‘Backbone’

nevver:

Nobody wants to be here and nobody wants to leave, Grant Haffner

Rushing and rushing

whiskeyandmisanthropy
humansofnewyork:

"If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?""Change your mind about something significant every day."

I believe in Malcomb

humansofnewyork:

"If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?"
"Change your mind about something significant every day."

I believe in Malcomb

nevver:

Bukowski