“It’s a moment that I remember very clearly. I liked him from the instant I saw him and I had the certain feeling that one of the main characters in my life had just walked on the stage. His name was Graham Coxon and he had the room above me” - Alex James, 2007 [on his 1st day at Goldsmiths]
Guess your dreams always end. They don’t rise up, just descend…
But I don’t care anymore, I’ve lost the will to want more.
I’m not afraid, not at all… I watch them all as they fall…
…but I remember when we were young.
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fig. 1: the shower head
fig. 2: the egyptian
fig. 3: the buffoon
fig. 4: the rag
fig. 5: the wall pocket
fig. 6: the karateka
fig. 7: the lotus
fig. 8: the acorn
fig. 9: the prayer
fig. 10: the fan
(via emedebe)
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Sleight of hand…
Jump off the end into a clear lake… no one around, just dragonflies flying to the side
No one gets hurt… you’ve done nothing wrong
Slide your hand, jump off the end… the water’s clear and innocent

Don’t be shy… you’ll learn to fly and see the sun when day is done
.
If only you see just what you are beneath a star that came to stay one rainy day
.
…in autumn for free
.
.
.
Yes, be what you’ll be
Siberian Breaks
… … … … … …
Sleep as the goer
The bridge that watches the light speed through
and cries while the spirit stumbles
the inside missile for the protection of you
Maybe it’s silent
The voice can’t bear anymore strain
but speak without even knowing
and streams outside in the direction of truth
There’s no reason there’s no secret to decode
If you can’t save it, leave it dying on the road
Wide open arms can feel so cold, so cold… feel so cold…
…

Balance the books, the ledges, the loons
The disappointed look on the faces
that squint at the moon
Let’s see it with shadows enhance
and then vote to decide who’ll advance
Silver jet plane, making a turn
exciting the brain that expects it to crash and then burn
It’s not the life lesson I’d’ve guessed
If you’re conscious you must be depressed
…or at least cynical
But someone might still eat the steaks
even if they’re tough
Spending the day
Chewing the fat
Floating away isn’t rough but it’s not enough
Oh Marianne, pass me the joint
The sandpaper’s tan
Go-getters are surfing the point
And London’s a scratch on the lens
It’s over before it begins
Silk ‘round her neck falls down to her shoulders
The older I get, the more I suspect there’s a trick
But really there’s no trip at all
that doesn’t result in a fall
…or a faltering
But something might spit out the bait
even if it’s real
Rolling away
Missing a spoke
Close to the ground like a wheel but it’s not true
Holding the line
Clutching the phone
Nobly wasting the night, but it isn’t right
It’s not right
Smelling for blood
Praying for rain
Running away isn’t rough, but it’s not enough
…
The low tide is telling me when it’s over,
to breathe in everything exposed
And comes back to cover me in a blanket
Being here’s always changing tunes
…
…The empty sky surrounds me but I can’t see at all
Wide open arms can feel so cold
and you can sit beside me and tell me what it’s worth
But I hope I die before I get sold
…I hope I die before I get sold
…I’d rather die before I get sold
…
If you find the soul that you lost
frozen in a starry void
Take it within and hope the sight of blood
can will signs of life to return
Back to the way that it was
long before it made a noise
To keep on quietly reminding you
what’s never created or destroyed

Wake as the swell peaks
the close-outs drowning the birds with roars
And howls scare the new unkindness
that picks and laughs at the carrion scene
Forces you see breath can always go into hiding
and wait ‘til it passes over
…or stay far gone for all eternity.
…quicksand

I’m closer to the Golden Dawn
Immersed in Crowley’s uniform of imagery
I’m living in a silent film
Portraying Himmler’s sacred realm of dream reality
I’m frightened by the total goal, drawing to the ragged hole
… and I ain’t got the power anymore
I’m the twisted name on Garbo’s eyes
Living proof of Churchill’s lies
I’m destiny
I’m torn between the light and dark
Where others see their targets Divine symmetry
Should I kiss the viper’s fang?
Or herald loud the death of Man?
I’m sinking in the quicksandof my thoughtAnd I ain’t got the power anymore
Don’t believe in yourself
Don’t deceive with belief
Knowledge comes with death’s release
I’m not a prophet or a stone age man
Just a mortal with the potential of a superman
I’m living on…
I’m tethered to the logic of Homo Sapien
Can’t take my eyes from the great salvation
…of bullshit faith
If I don’t explain what you ought to know
you can tell me all about it on the next Bardo
I’m sinking in the quicksand of my thought
And I ain’t got the power anymore
Sos mi más dulce perdición
Yo te amé primero…yo te amé primero.
Bajo estas hojas yace mi verdad, pero me tengo que ir…
Tu pelo era largo cuando te conocí.
Los libros se olvidaron de nosotros y la Biblia ni siquiera nos menciona.
Yo te amé primero, bajo las estrellas que caen sobre nosotros…
…aunque ya sus luces sean antiguas…
No pudimos derribar las columnas… no pudimos derribar ni siquiera una.
Sos mi más dulce perdición… Yo te amé primero.
