WAÏF. Postcards from the past future
Exposition Universelle de Montréal
16:37// I have reached a point at which the me of late-2012 to early-2013 would have felt crippling guilt over what amounts to a relatively little thing, leading me to stress out, to the point of, at times, catching myself calling myself “stupid” when something on the screen didn’t do what I had hoped, I mean, as I would have thought of it then, I had done something wrong. I accept the heurestic process necessary to balance the various professional and personal tasks of one who does what I hope to do. Though I have gotten better at working consistently on projects, I still seem to tend towards a relay/stroll production binary — I’m either on a roll working on particular bits, having worked out what I am going to do in my mind, my dreams, my sketches, the conceptual framework of the project, or I slide into a mode of the ‘stroll’, not necessarily unproductive, it is not structured — I spend time reading Reinhold Martin’s “The Organizational Complex: Architecture, Media, and Corporate Space”, a book that was recommended to me by a colleague on a whim before the semester had even begun, I look at projects on Tumblr, I passively watch light-weight television, when an ‘a-ha’ moment sends me for my sketchbook, which should have, as it typically is, always with me. Love is a lot like the creative process. Sam told me, a week or so before he left, for justifiable reasons (even if he did not clarify them), that, despite me urging him to stay in Ithaca and write if that’s what he needed to do, he was left feeling guilty. I feared the guilt would turn into resentment and some part of me, that then I did not see, turned feelings of vulnerability and neglect into sadness, anger, etc. I, on the other hand, felt guilty whenever I was not working and obsessively compelled to focus on details that should not have been my primary focus. The concept of perfection and sense of its unattainability (except, for me, held warmly in your arms), sets an unattainable standard, always just out of reach. That way of viewing life is what caused me to spiral. I focused so solely on school, and particularly doing a rather absurd amount of research before even beginning my building, that I stopped considering how my behavior was impacting you. I was wrong and I am truly sorry. I have changed, because as I said then, I was miserable. I knew something had to change, but I did not know what. You were never the cause, love. It was a ton of my baggage run amok in the nightmarish reality of drifting about the city in the rain after sleeping on 3 hours a night 5 nights a week, with a 12 hour weekend sleep binge — when you would be visiting. I am sorry I let the world drive me a bit mad. It really did have a lot to do with so many circumstances colliding to make a perfect storm. I was wrong. I have changed, it’s an adventure, not a struggle, I love you. Keep going.
proper way to eat pizza
yo this wasn’t in the movie
17:17// And I think that initial plan of the thermal masses might twist now.
#calvinkleinlive from Singapore.
'no homo' god says as he puts the male g-spot up their anus
T Bowl Shapes!
For all your tea bowl identification needs
being cremated is my last hope of getting a hot, smoking body