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There’s this Johnny Cash song I just heard that I thought I had simply missed out on. I don’t know enough Johnny Cash, but I found out it is in fact, new. The way “Real Love” was new sixteen years after John Lennon’s death. There are only a few songs like it; ones that maintain the mystery of life and love while somehow illuminating the heartache. You feel justified, but not without regret. Some tune you’re never sure you want to hear, but somehow, beside yourself, you always let it play. What these people, this one guy can do with a song, with three fucking minutes, never ceases to blow my head off. And this is one of his “throw-aways”…they never released it until now, anyway. Apparently it wasn’t worthy.
Found this bit of the postcard I ripped up a few nights ago. I think it’s important to destroy things, things you must move on from. Especially when I realized that I don’t want to be anywhere near some place “where nothing happens” I mean, go fuck yourself, Henry Miller, seriously.
Yet, while listening to the Cash song I find a tiny bit of paper I had missed, had not put in yesterday’s trash that has since been swept away- I meant to! But here, just a corner with some green, plant like sketch and …the writing, outside the border “willoughby 2012.” like, Willoughby? REALLY?
What a bit to be left with me. To help me continue to understand and love and move on. ON!.
That man, that year, always in my heart.
And also that loss.
“As she went out the door I heard her say: Yes I’m in need of something, but something you ain’t got. But I used to love you a lot.”

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for everyone I have ever Loved, Love and will Love

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I get so furious with America most of the time, and yet I can’t help but notice how American it is to feel sad about how much you owe in taxes and listen to Jackson Browne’s “Cocaine” three times in a row on your record player at 3am.

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You gorgeous lefty.

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ballerinaproject:

Rebekah - Lower East Side, New York City

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L.e.s. yes.

Source: ballerinaproject
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in which i wish that i can play Regine Chassagne in something, someday. Happy Birthday to me.

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"May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."

- Neil Gaiman (via bookporn)

(via npr)

Source: bookporn
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bindersfullofwomen:

Nobody puts baby in a binder.

Source: bindersfullofwomen
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"Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won’t adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words “make” and “stay” become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free."

- Bernard, Still Life With Woodpecker, Tom Robbins