Achtung Baby!

3 languages

Dolly Haze incarnate

Angela hates U2 and won't watch Star Wars but we're still famous friends. She loves Coldplay so to celebrate the good times had this weekend, this is for her.

Coldplay: God Put A Smile Upon Your Face.live

miserable

I want to adopt her

It is very likely that if I had a daughter she would very much be like this little Nerdy Dr Who fan here...

+ This is a cover of Tegan and Sara's Call It Off

love is a tired symphony

Stacy Dupree King: Lion's Maine

a pain stabbed my heart

Vulnerable and Honest

Helena Kvarnstrom

when I was burned and broken

Pink Floyd: Coming Back To Life

An Anthology of Desires or "drunk on the impossible past.”

Remembrance, like Rembrandt - is dark but festive.
Nabokov

The monarchy of my nympholepsy has lead me here, staring at the last photograph I have of her and wondering if I should delete it. Might as well, being that she has infected my memory just like the others. Each girl was not a wounded bird I couldn't help loving, but actually vultures that devoured the feeling and understanding of Trust from within me.

Your letters got sadder. Your lovers betrayed you. Kid, I wrote back, all lovers betray. It didn’t help. You said you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and the bridge was over the river and you sat on the crying bench every night and wept for the lovers who had hurt and forgotten you.
Bukowski

Karmin: Jar of Hearts

 

Coincidence is a pimp and a cardsharper in ordinary fiction but a marvelous artist in the patterns of facts recollected by a non-ordinary memorist.
V.N.

 text rain 

in the stars, my brain

Tori Amos: girl disappearing.live

I had opted to be quiet. I had nothing nice to say. why be hurtful? Imagine how I felt when you spewed all the venom I held back right at me . If your goal was to constantly frustrate me, you win. I can't fucking find you. I've come to learn that you know how to torture me like the best of them.

“And then black night. The blackness was sublime.
I felt distributed through space and time:
One foot upon a mountaintop, one hand
Under the pebbles of a panting strand,
One ear in Italy, one eye in Spain,
In caves, my blood, and in the stars, my brain.”

 Canto Two, Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov/ reluctantly subject to your disposal...