wanted to post this earlier, but just threw on to pinterest instead. demo of sharon van etten’s ‘serpents’
when i do, it is because i don’t want to forget things. i didn’t get into ‘tumblr culture’ with asks/etc, nor do i care about people reblogging anything i post.
something that’s always bother me is tumblr as a constant parade of beautiful images. so many fashionable 17 year olds gazing wistfully out the window. or at the beach, windblown back to the camera. or sprawled on a bed (vivid colors). lips pursed or opened and glossy. girls performing pagan ceremonys (candles lit, crystals).
and it extends beyond images. poetry made by blacking out text. scribbled handwriting on scraps. typewriter font over contemporary patterns on paper.
the point is, every one of these would be interesting in its own right. but none of it has any time. i’m just tired of it. i can make things for myself, but i want people to feel something. i can post it online and it gets lost in this stream.
even if something stands out for a minute online, it is quickly glossed over, forgotten, and we are on to the next thing. it has changed how we experience culture. there isn’t anything tangible to hold on to. we won’t print these images, we won’t buy these books or hold these records.
everything is experienced via smartphone. for ~30 seconds. and then we move on.
i don’t hate the internet. quite the opposite, i grew up as someone who was very ‘good at it.’ it is an amazing tool for spreading ideas and communicating with people. i would not be the person i am today without the ability to find people ‘like me’ who didn’t exist in my hometown. i remember reading the kittyradio forums (a hole fan community, originally run by courtney, who used to post long cryptic rants and answer our questions), and feeling so much better that i wasn’t the only person like me, who felt unsettled and didn’t feel content sitting in my room listening to nelly or korn or anything else that was popular at that point in time. i remember downloading elliott smith bootlegs around the time he died, waiting patiently for the release of ‘from a basement on a hill.’ i was able to find the content i wanted online, because it didn’t exist in reality.
but! i didn’t lose sight of the fact that it was reality. and the content i found seemed to be… cherished… in a way. music was burned to cds and then i listened to it in my room. it wasn’t heard once and then relegated to a playlist. i actually had penpals that i met online (on kittyradio), too.
my friends and i used the internet to supplement our lives, not as an interactive stream that exists at all times, a tv with extras that we don’t think about. there were still hiccups with online service and we recognized and respected that we were ‘going online,’ as opposed to being connected all of the time. there was a difference…
i’ll probably delete this, but i’m going to post it for a while. don’t bash me too hard, but it really makes me really really bummed about the future and everything.
I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing – their outer lives. Sitting round in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling – their inner lives. They speak subjectively, they argue less, there are longer pauses. To sit alone without any electric light is curiously creative. I have my best ideas at dawn or at nightfall, but not if I switch on the lights – then I start thinking about projects, deadlines, demands, and the shadows and shapes of the house become objects, not suggestions, things that need to done, not a background to thought.Jeanette Winterson, Why I adore the night (via olivia-ross)
hey this too
i don’t know what to make of this girl, but i’ve had this in my head all day
time moves both ways