January 2011
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December 2010
elmoislkyi asked: I hope you have a lovely new year my favorite tumblr blog person, hahaha.
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elmoislkyi asked: Hahahah completely the same! Oh you have no idea. I got so much Bobby stuff, and I am falling more and more in love with him. I need to see him live.
I also got a harmonica and a uke so I can attempt to learn some of his songs.
I also got a harmonica and a uke so I can attempt to learn some of his songs.
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elmoislkyi asked: Hello! How Is your holiday going?
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Moon Knows, Wind Answers.
Here, he said. Take my hand. He, Grandfather, extends a worn and wise hand to his grandson. Grandson’s eyes rise young and scared, not afraid. The night’s black is pervaded by hundreds of stars; of lights long departed. Grandfather sees these lights reflected in Grandson’s eyes. He smiles. He shells Grandson’s hand in his own and they walk. The walk for a long time. Grandson...
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Energy & Emptiness
In a certain lighting, skin cracks look reptilian and archaic.
Pinch of blood, full red at the base of an index finger knuckle and I realize I am Woody, at his window sad and lonely.
Tiny pool of bright red says: you are bleeding all the time.
Can you feel yourself dying?
Inhale.
Now you are one breath closer.
Laughing?
You are really crying.
Crying?
Laugh, don’t cry.
Find...
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totalfilm asked: Black Swan and True Grit aren't out in the UK until 2011, so we can't include them. I'm sure Sam would have had at least one of them in there...
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He then learns that in going down into the secrets of his own mind he has...
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Folk: Pure and Genuine →
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Dinghy With A Leak
Clinging to a dinghy with a leak.
Here, in this murky, muddled mind pool.
Truth is obscured.
Fear lies dormant, beady-eyed, salivating.
Love quivers and shakes and says please.
Sometimes brave, sometimes timid.
If so curious and alive and radiant, from whence cometh fear?
Deep, dark, cavernous, wretched, insatiable evil.
Parasite of the mind, go away.
You are spiteful and unwelcome and...
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You’re all geniuses, and you’re all beautiful. You don’t need anyone to tell you...
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These Stars Can't Judge You
If I layed on the hood of a car in a red plaid shirt, apple in hand, I would tell my soul: now this is nice.
It would rebuttal with a curt nod, if it only could.
Heart and soul in the palms of Debussy’s hands, I’m reflected in a vat of stars.
And as if every atom of my being taken apart and put together again, there I am, a subject.
Broken down, dissected.
Laughter, candor,...
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