The difference between leaves and not just seasons, character, writing, reading, theatre, film (I love film), surreality, character that unravels from the inside, subtlty, humor, conversation, road trips, vistas, confidence, expression, being, constant learning, constant striving, the journey, walks, Golden Gate Park, decadence, rapture, words as they yearn to communicate, social and political theory, exquisite morsels, sensuality for its own sake, people watching, hiking, trees, rain (especially warm rain and puddle jumping), fitness (mind, body, soul), integration, passionate people (there has to be more than a pulse), culture, giggling honestly and laughing unabashedly, long mornings, late nights, possibility (making it real, come .., the taste of sunsets, pomegranates, unraveling, not being satisfied with fate, integrity, orchids, sincerity (I love sincerity), knowing every day to be an adventure ...
Those who cultivate and nurture the delicate and the beautiful. The appreciative and creative hearts that understand the strength of meaning and the boldness of being gentle.Interesting people that actually have something to say that isn't just a ploy. Oh -- and while I believe that people have the extraordinary capacity to be amazing and beautiful creatures, I find it frustrating that 99.8% of the population seems a bit on the grazing side of life for f*ck sake. Consumption-driven people that are just going to post me half-naked photos with over-compensating muscle cars and ignore everything I may have to say please just show a little impulse control (trust me, it's sexy) and DON'T contact me. Hard as it may be to believe, I don't need you and you probably wouldn't like me anyway. If I just wanted to get laid, I'm sure there's a site for that too -- and several hundred other ways. Besides, pretty and dumb just isn't my thing and I still believe that there is more to sexuality than opportunity. Trust me -- you will not like me. So again: please refrain from lame zings. Just look for the obviously needing-validation girls that really need you to fill their partial identity and will conform their Cosmo-plastic personalities to the mold that best fits your faltering ego. The two or more of you will be plenty happy lying blissfully to one another and remaining lonely but distracted per the rules of those mundane little how-to books that treat people like math functions... soooo tedious. And please, don't think this some sexy tough-girl challenge; power-plays don't belong in my boudoir. I really really mean it.
Pixies, Radio Head, Miles Davis, Billy Holiday, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Postal Service, John Lee Hooker, Pink Floyd, Iron and Wine, Calexico, Morphine, Death Cab, Elliot Smith, Mark Lanegan, The Clash, Velvet Underground, Tom Petty, The Specials, Classical, Mike Doughty, Esquivel, Dylan, Jimmy Hendrix, Taj Majal, Hank Williams, Nick Cave, Willie Nelson, any good car music, Nina Simone, Beni More, Tres Ponchos... I am very very drawn to interesting moody music with good lyrics...
City of God, Thin Red Line, The Elephant Man, Room with a View, Delicatessen (all Jean-Pierre Jeunet: even Alien 4), Tampopo, Blade Runner (strictly the director's cut), All Choen (sp?) Brothers, Solaris, Rosencrantz and Gildenstern are Dead, Full Metal Jacket, Casablanca, My Life as a Dog, Touch of Evil, Blue (Fr), Almadovar's Work, Shadow of a Vampire, Noir in general, Deep Blue Sea (it's funny -- intelligence is evil), 2046, almost all Kubric, Platoon, Miyazaki, Grave of Fireflies, Life of Brian, Mullholand Drive, Eternal Sunshine, Fists of Legend, Ridley Scott rocks, No Spielberg, and many many others... I love movies!!!
They're mostly all filler... the white noise of modern life. Besides, real life is almost always way more fun.
The Plague and all Camus, Confederacy of Dunces, The Castle by Kafka, Beyond Good and Evil, Canary Row, The Alchemist, Who Doesn't Seem to like Master and Margarita, Shakespeare, Gargantua and Pentagruel, e.e. cummings, Wallace Stevens, King Leer, Hamlet, Kahlil Gibran, Twain, Kuhn, Pablo Neruda, Rilke, Wuthering Heights, Stevenson, Burroughs, The Little Prince, Crime and Punishment, Gibson, Ray Bradbury's story about the Sea Monster and the Lighthouse from Golden Apples of the Sun, Faulkner (As I Lay Dying), Joyce, Marquez, Blas de Otero, "So it Goes", ... Important warning: I HATE AYN RAND and find it apauling that so many find her self-indulgent pseudo-intellectual masterbatory crap eddifying. Ah!..........................."Sexual Water" by Pablo Neruda...............................Rolling down in big and distinct drops, in drops like teeth, in heavy drops like marmalade and blood. rolling down in big drops, the water is falling, like a sword made of drops, like a river of glass that tears things, it is falling, biting, beating on the axle of symmetry, knocking on the seams of the soul, breaking abandoned things, soaking the darkness. It is nothing but a breath, more full of moisture than crying, a liquid, a sweat, an oil that has no name, a sharp motion, taking shape, making itself thick, the water is falling in slow drops toward the sea, toward its dry ocean, toward its wave without water.I look at the wide summer, and a loud noise coming from a barn, wineshops, cicadas, towns, excitements, houses, girls sleeping with hands over their hearts. dreaming of pirates, of conflagarations, I look at ships, I look at trees of bone marrow bristling like mad cats, I look at blood, daggers and women's stockings, and men's hair, I look at beds, I look at corridors where a virgin is sobbing, I look at blankets and organs and hotels.I look at secretive dreams, I let the straggling days come in, and the beginnings also, and memories also, like an eyelid held open hideously I am watching.And then this sound comes: a red noise of bones, a sticking together of flesh and legs yellow as wheatheads meeting. I am listening among the explosions of the kisses, I am listening, shaken among breathings and sobs.I am here, watching, listening, with half of my soul at sea and half of my soul on land, and with both halves of my soul I watch the world.And even if I close my eyes and cover my heart over entirely, I see the monotonous water falling in big monotonous drops. It is like a hurricane of gelatin, like a waterfall of sperm and sea anenomes. I see a clouded rainbow hurrying. I see its water moving over my bones.
All Great Satirists, The humane & passionate. Awful question in some ways, for I would rather be the person I admire than look up from under and unworthy. I think we constantly have the ability to become who we want to be. Admire? Certainly. There are many I admire, who inspire me -- sometimes only in the secrets of my memory. But, knowing the point of the topic, some few I admire: Camus, Nietzsche, Van Gogh, my father, my best friend Melissa who's love validates my strange being and faithfully lets me be my self, those with the courage to live passionately themselves always, dream chasers, great lovers, Umberto Eco, Hamlet, oh just look through my stuff... Any way as for aspiration ---"When a true genius appears, you can know him by this sign: that all the dunces are in a confederacy against him." - Johnathan Swift - may I be so lucky as to one day find myself in the frenzied center of just such a confederacy; then I will know the taste and not just the dream of hope. Until then, let me belong to no group other than that animal group we call, somewhat generously, human 'beings'. That group seems currently to need the most help with organizing its members.