minutes and hours feel quite a bit more arbitrary than seconds or days, and i guess i get why days feel concrete and real (thanks, sun), i also can’t for the life of me figure out what makes a second a second (maybe it’s a heartbeat??—and i know i could look it up but like, comeon, the mystery)
this was so remarkable—too much that’s too good so I can’t pick a quote, but I appreciate how directly and yet expressively you get at the feeling of being on this vainglorious hamster wheel of artistic labor, a little afraid that the grind won’t get you anywhere, but even more afraid to use time in any other way
“Life is so hard now, I think, in part, because we’ve increasingly eliminated the time in which we live.”
Fuck. I wanna print this whole post off and tape it to my desk
for real, or print it out and use it as kindling to burn down a bank
hi
This is beautiful <3
Thanks!!
I loved this and felt it viscerally in my heart and in my bones. Thank you.
hey, thank ya—hope we both figure it out yk
I was just thinking the other day about how seconds and days feel real, like in a human way. And how minutes and hours feel so impossible to pin down.
I know when a second or a day happens, but for the life of me I can’t keep track of minutes and hours.
minutes and hours feel quite a bit more arbitrary than seconds or days, and i guess i get why days feel concrete and real (thanks, sun), i also can’t for the life of me figure out what makes a second a second (maybe it’s a heartbeat??—and i know i could look it up but like, comeon, the mystery)
A second feels kind of engrained in me. It’s like just long enough to know that it happened. It’s like my brains turn over rate from moment to moment.
this was so remarkable—too much that’s too good so I can’t pick a quote, but I appreciate how directly and yet expressively you get at the feeling of being on this vainglorious hamster wheel of artistic labor, a little afraid that the grind won’t get you anywhere, but even more afraid to use time in any other way
My brain automatically read this in the same intonation as TS Eliot when he read the wasteland. Cheers to the brrrrr of your AC, this was wonderful
hive mind i just had my own the wild kindness renaissance
the “instead of time, there will be lateness” lyric haunts me CONSTANTLY — I have to pull myself back from citing it all the time.
fr it’s so haunting and it only gets worse the more context you get about david berman’s life (rest in peace)
Say two Frenchmen’s last names fast enough, they sound almost identical
currently trying to say baudelaire, bachelard, and badrillard thirty times really fast and failing miserably
It’s Baudrillard who wrote cool memories, not Bachelard
o shit you are absolutely right, i'll change that,—getting my french guys mixed up
this one is simply way too real
felt a little bit like Tetsuo in Akira while writing it ngl
Ahhh get out of my head Griffin ahhhhhh