Say yes to everything.shirk nothing.Don't try to lie to yourself.

 

           

 

 

from "Wandering" , Hermann Hesse.

 

I wish all of you would understand Hesse in German language, his words are beautiful in so many ways.

"I like nice tits. I always have, how about you? - I like having nice tits."

 

That conversation between two girls in a movie I recently saw made me smile and chuckle to myself, because I thought about this: 

 

A friend of mine decided to get a boob job some weeks ago.She came by to chill with me the other day and asked me if I would mind to make a picture of my breasts for her, that she can show to her doctor.

I was like: for real? I mean....for real real? 

And she was like: I want them exactly to look like yours. They're perfect.

 

moment of silence for my ego please

 

So...she is going to have her breasts build after mine next month.

I'm excited about how my breasts will look with white skin.

Posted in

acrylic on flesh - alexa meade

Alexa Meade is a 23-year-old mixed media artist based in Washington,DC. Her painting technique pushes the boundaries of perception , compressing 3D space into a 2D plane, effectively blurring the lines between art and life. By wrapping her subject in a mask of paint, she skews the way the core of the subject is perceived. Alexa's innovative use of paint on the three dimensional surfaces of found objects, live models and architectural spaces has been incorporated into a series of installations that create a perceptual shift in how we experience and interpret spatial relationships. However.....her work is damn dope and brilliant.

 


 

 

 

 

I came across this through the blog of my friends from Dreamteam Clothing.Simply amazing.

I really would like to

have a conversation that doesn't sound like one that I've already had.

Posted in

the krishna godhead chicks with guns die to live infinity army

luv it. perfect breasts.

 

          

 

images by JUSTIN EDWARD JOHN SMITH

on my mind.

I had this on my mind today. Usually I write down my thoughts  in a notebook (yea with a pen...on paper, call me oldschool) to clear my mind, some of them end up here. But today I'd like to tell someone else's story, cause her thoughts helped me to clear mine and I think what she wrote is just beautiful.

However...In the end the above was all I wrote down.


“When did it happen?

When did stability become the new joy and compromise the new ambition?  When did life turn into this wilderness of desolation and pain?

I look for your laughter, but all I get is a grimace and a mirthless haha from your throat.  Your laughter used to be so beautiful.  The slow gurgle that built up into a loud burst rumbling from deep down in your belly, with the smile that lit up your face breaking the skin around your eyes into a million rivers.

When did it happen?

You say it’s part of the process.  Part of growing up.  You say I am the one who is lost, looking for a ghost, chasing a mirage.  You say being an adult is swallowing the bitter pill of reality.  That to live is to hurt and to love is to die.  That it’s better to chose the less painful option.  To compromise.  To join the pack.  To grin and bear it.

But I can’t.  I can’t because I’ve been to that place of contentment.  Those days of wine and roses.  Those days when we set our minds on the pursuit of happiness and determined to hold on to our dreams and never give up.  When we seemed immortal because of the strength of our hope and the potency of our passion. Now you tell me it’s all an illusion and that it’s time to say goodbye.

Where should I go?  To that place where people look the same and swear the same?  To that place where people fuck the same? I won’t do it.  I won’t become the new you.  The new disgusting soulless you all brushed, polished and marching to a tune that’s not your own.  I won’t become like you satisfied with your new reconditioned car, your 9-to-5 job in a tall building, your box house in the valley and your stiff suits.  I won’t become like your new girl with her chemically straightened hair and bony shoulders, little red bag always on her shoulder, the latest cell phone always in her hand and always with the “yars yars London yars, Jimmy Choo shoes, Prada scarf and Paris for Christmas.”

You said it was too hard to hold on to me.  Too hard to hold on to you.  You said you were tired of my naiveté and that you needed structure and something to rely on.  That I was too capricious and erratic.  That I was too hard to love.

I understand you not loving me.  I don’t understand you not loving you.

Love you again.  Love him who threw out a meaningless job and spent a year on the road finding himself, remembering what felt like to walk barefoot down a hot tarmac road. Love him who lay in the grass on a cold January night, pointing out the stars, dreaming of travel to strange and beautiful places.  Love him for whom compassion was as real as frustration and anger was as strong as joy.  Love him who couldn’t walk past a child without saying a kind word or a stranger without sharing a joke.  Love him who said to that live a day without laughter was sacrilege.

I remember him.  I remember him who laughed at my vanity and smiled at my haplessness.  I remember him listened to my long stories of longing, heartache and adventure and soothed me to sleep by singing along with Train on the CD and strumming on his guitar.

Tell me did you sail across the sun?

Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded

And that heaven is overrated?

Tell me did you fall for a shooting star

One without a permanent scar?

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

And are you lonely looking for yourself out there?

Bring him back because the journey is bleak without the knowledge that although he is apart from me he hasn’t forgotten to dance.

I’ll be waiting for him on the other side.  I’ll be waiting for him to wake up from the delusion that this is all there is and that this existence doesn’t offer more.  I’ll be waiting because I don’t believe that to live is to hurt and to love is to die.”

found

ich gruesse alle die ich kenne