My girl Holly and I decided to kill ourselves. The same way I did her Daddy. Big decision, you know. Uh, the reasons are obvious. I don’t have time to go into right now. But, one thing though, he was provoking me when I popped him. Well that’s what it was like. Pop. I’m sorry. I mean, nobody’s coming out of this thing happy. Especially not us. I can’t deny we’ve had fun though
53/250: Badlands (USA 1973) - Terrence Malick
(via tarkovskymalick)
the office is over and I got really sad because it was one of my favourites series ever. It was perfect.
The final of a school project where we have to get inspiration from lace. I chose to transpose it on skin.
Done in one hour on a classmate.
Filmed by another classmate.
Edited by me.
Music is “Cinder and Smoke” by Iron and Wine.
Stormy weathers all in one
The blanket is dry and the floor is warm
Who is it that saved us
From the stormy weather
The rain is coming from the broken window
Yet here we are, standing in a brand new boat
What is it that sheltered us
What is it that sheltered us
From the stormy weather
The lights are off
It’s like the end of time
Yet the candle lights up the brightest time
Who is it that kept us from
Who is it that kept us from
From the stormy weathers
What is it that sheltered us
What is it that shelters us
From the stormy weather
From the stormy weather
(Source : Spotify)
” It’s a way to exteriorize all my shit. To scream and cry and laugh on-screen, it’s almost like black magic. You can do anything. I’m a dreamer, so that’s a good job for me. Onstage is the only place I can fully express myself.” - Eva Green
(Source : certenotti, via tuntematonkorppi)
Kirsty Mitchell’s late mother Maureen was an English teacher who spent her life inspiring generations of children with imaginative stories and plays. Following Maureen’s death from a brain tumour in 2008, Kirsty channelled her grief into her passion for photography.
She retreated behind the lens of her camera and created Wonderland, an ethereal fantasy world. The photographic series began as a small summer project but grew into an inspirational creative journey.
‘Real life became a difficult place to deal with, and I found myself retreating further into an alternative existence through the portal of my camera,’ said the artist. (read the rest here).
So beautiful omg.
(via archaical)
The weirdest thing just happened, I was feeling down, it’s late and I was feeling like remembering some old memories so I went to my old, old, old blog. Read some stuff I wrote about how I was once a huge fan of a band, and how I really liked another one. And this other one had a bassist and he was also doing music on his own and I listened to it again because I had such a massive crush on his musics. I remember well, I was on this old, old computer we had back in my old house, in a village and it was the end of the day. And I was just wandering from pages to pages and I found his website, and I clicked on the music, and I listened and it litteraly exploded inside of me and I felt alive and happy and the field I could see behind my house and everything else seemed like the most beautiful thing ever.
Anyway, I was just listening to that again, and I had a smile because all of that was good memories after all and then I just wandered again. Aaaand I found his new website, his twitter, and his facebook page in no time (saying that he’s got like 100 likes haha) that’s so weird because it was such a big deal for us back then. And now he’s a composer, living in LA. And it was 5 years ago. And oh my god I feel so old these days.
I need you, and nothing else will do.
When chaos overwhelms a part of your life that you usually dominate, like Don does his workspace, a natural urge to control something, anything, takes over. When my life becomes chaotic, I crawl inside myself and make strange lists, like Ted admits with his Gilligan’s Island-margarine pairings. During the darkest times in my past, my house was impeccably clean because, while I couldn’t control what was happening to me, I could absolutely control the space around me.
Taking control over another person is tricky. It can be an exciting, freeing experience for both, or it can be a warning of potential abuse; control must be given as freely as it is taken, and trust must exist on both ends. For Don and Sylvia, their short game of dominance and control was exciting and cathartic, but ultimately, with too much time for Sylvia to consider the truth of their play, an ending.
What a gift though, to read another person well enough, like Don did Sylvia, to know that she needed, for a spell, to lose control; to not know what was going to happen next, but trust that she was going to enjoy it. Don, in turn, was able to know with complete certainty, that while his work was muddled and confused with new people and change and challenges, there was something beautiful waiting for him, something even more beautiful than Megan because Sylvia was waiting on Don’s order. She existed only for him.
We’ve seen Don’s dominance take over with nearly all his relationships. We’ve heard him tell more than one woman to stop talking. We’ve seen his need to control take an abusive turn with Betty, and a filthy worded role play scene with Megan. What we ultimately see with Don though, with the women he cares about – Betty; Megan; Sylvia – is a boyish need to keep things as they are, even if the woman is miserable. “Please,” Don begs Sylvia as she calmly explains to him that their relationship is damaged and doomed. Don doesn’t want to stop playing; he doesn’t want the beautiful, smart, lovely woman to leave him.
After shaming, ignoring, shoving and calling Betty a whore, when she finally tells him it’s over, he lowers his head in a darkened room and weeps. A strong shouldered man, broken because the beautiful woman he loved tells him he’s not good enough. When he and Megan fight at the HoJo after she turns down his delicious orange sherbet offer, he violently kicks in a door, chases her while she grips her hairbrush, like an angered father attempting to control his defiant daughter. When they fall together, and Megan holds an aching limb and cries, Don’s face looks terrified and exhausted. She stands, proud and frightened, and he crawls to her, clutches her, and suddenly, he’s the frightened child.
Every woman Don chooses ends up finding a voice that says, “I don’t need you”, and it terrifies him. For Don, there is nothing more frightening than being insignificant; unneeded; unwanted. He keeps a loose hold on one woman while wrapping himself around another, and when one fails, he grips the one that’s still there, hoping that she doesn’t go away, hoping that he can always return to her and find her, sweetly waiting for him. The foreshadowing image at the end of the episode, while Megan sits on the end of the bed and cries watching the footage of Bobby Kennedy’s assassination, and Don sits near her, facing away, looking shame faced and tired, is a glimpse of what it would look like if Don lost Megan too – just a sad lonely man, filled with remorse.
(via davidfincher)
NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY
