Aiden Pearce Is INSANE.

SOFIA ISELLA, the artist you are

Christians who are Really Into Jesus dying on the cross 🤝 Persecution Complex 🤝 “We’re the daughters of the witches you didn’t burn.”

Glad to bring new posts to the feeding grounds for my (checks stats) 7- no we’re back down to 6-, 6 whole followers!!

"There's millions of Tumblr users" to you. To me There's only about 12 and we all reblog the same five posts from each other

An Essay on Nihilism and Ennui

Maybe the world is doomed. Maybe you can’t do anything about it. Maybe you were born on a train that had run of our track, long after we shot the engineers and burned the plans to lay track anew. The conductors barricaded the engine room where they hold hostage generations of coal miners who are forced to keep full steam ahead lest they be shoved into the incinerators themselves.

Maybe we can’t change any of that. I’d like to hope we can. Unfortunately hope isn’t the thing that drags your ass out of the cave you’ve collapsed into constructed of pizza boxes and soiled sheets. Drive is. Action is. Curiosity is.

Suppose we’re stuck on this train. It will crash. We will all die in a horrible fiery explosion, or succumb to the fumes first. What are you going to do in the meantime?

Here’s the thing: Life sucks and we’re all going to die. We don’t know when, we don’t know how. It feels impossible to plan for a future we have little data to prove will exist. What we do have is the interim. We can sit around and doom-scroll on our phones, or we can live life while we have it.

Plant a garden out of old coffee cans. Invite your friends over to fingerpaint on cardboard. Kiss the people you think about when you lay in bed at night. Chase an unrealistic dream, not because you believe it is possible, but because you can’t live with yourself if you never try.

That’s what you’re doing when you ingest endless content. You are simultaneously looking for the thing that will complete you, and desperately running from the voice inside that asks “what if there’s more?”

Stop. Running. Turn around. Look at the voice headlong. Dare to ask it back: “What more do I want there to be?”

Then go find it.

So uh….some dude apparently recreated Adobe Photoshop feature-for-feature, for FREE, and it runs in your browser.

Anyway, fuck Adobe, and enjoy!

I swear I meant this to be a writing blog where I distract myself from my obligations but I keep thinking about Batman on main

So I’m just checking here.

Are there people who don’t think Marcus Holloway and Wrench are dating?

My toxic trait: I’m great at talking to people about their feelings and what’s doing on in their lives, but the second anyone asks me back I deflect and avoid.

I know I’m doing it. I don’t know how to stop though.

Oh it still happens plenty. Issue is, most don’t know how to share it.

Finding someone who only has eyes for you is practically impossible nowadays.

Many times in my life I have come across music, stories, art, and thought…not yet. I’ll love you, eventually, one day. I’ll come back when I’m ready. You’ll find me again when I need it.

I loved singing as a kid. I grew up with a mom who kept Songs About Jane by Maroon 5 in the CD player, and a Grandmother dancing along to Patsy Cline any chance she got. My Aunt got an iTunes account just to download Carly Simon’s and Adele. My grandfather sobbing hymns.

Eventually, I got scared of sharing the music I love. I was told it was too melancholy, too angry, too overwhelming. That I was those things too. Friends would say I had terrible taste, like it was a joke, like it was obvious, like I was obtuse for not noticing.

Over the last year I’ve been trying to change that. Making music recommendations, playing Passenger DJ, singing by the sea.

I am honored by your response. Thank you.

Ready, Set, Go…

What’s your favorite Hozier song? Why? No, you can’t say all of them. And don’t choose something stupid like cherry wine (there’s nothing wrong with cherry wine. Obviously. But gods man, have an actual opinion).

You are, however, perfectly welcome to list a handful in no particular order. Here, I’ll start,

Wildflower and Barley ft. Allison Russell

“(I feel as) useful as dirt, put my body to work.”

If this song does not fill you with the incredible longing to fall in love with life, and love, and dirt, you are listening to music wrong. I am sorry, you are beyond redemption.

To Noise Making (Sing)

“Your head tilt back, your funny mouth to the clouds. I couldn’t hope to know that song and all it’s words wouldn’t claim to feel the same it felt the first time it was heard.”

“Was it that or just the act of making noise that brought you joy?”

Enjoy the moment because it will not last, but rejoice in the knowledge that more are coming, as similarly meaningful and unique and impossible to duplicate to the one you are currently living!

Make music. Make bad music. Make music for the sake of exaltation. Make art because if you don’t then what is the point in living! Make art because one of the first things a child learns is to take marker to a wall, or pudding to a carpet. Make art because it is an expression of self. Make art because it is proof of life. Live.

Too Sweet

“Don’t you just want to wake up, dark as a lake? Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?”

Get drunk with your friends and skinny dip off a pier. Ignore the rules, what are they for anyway? Find meaning in how you see it. Confront the wild beast in the woods and let it merry meet the one in you.

Those church bells in the background- Are they ringing in a wedding, or a funeral? A simple Sunday Service, or acknowledging the hour? Life goes on, always. It’s the one continuity. It never stops. So what are you doing with it?

Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue)

“A cure I know that soothes the soul, does so impossibly. A moment’s silence when my baby puts the mouth on me.”

“When the meaning’s gone, there is clarity, and the reason comes on the common tongue of your loving me. And it’s easy done, our little remedy…”

Hot.

What, I can’t like music with an…oral focus? Too low brow? The beat and flow of the music takes you on a sensual journey as much as the lyrics.

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier, Fiachra Kinder, and Rory Doyle

“Jarring of judgement and reasons defeat, the sweet heat of her breath in my mouth, I’m alive.”

“With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean…”

“With her straw blonde hair, her arms hard and lean, she’s the angle of death and the codeine scene.”

I’m gay. Extraordinarily queer. Do I need to elaborate? This sound sounds like a death march. It sounds like the echo in your ears as you dance yourself to death. Years passing away in the span of a single dance and you don’t care, as long as she is your partner. You can’t manage to rip your eyes off her to save your life. You won’t.

Almost (Sweet Music)

“I’m almost me again…she’s almost you.”

It was Almost Sweet Music. We were Almost something. I’m Almost able to be normal about this song. Seperated by a pair of parenthesis, kept apart and yet part of the whole.

Foreigner’s God

“Her eyes look sharp and steady into the empty parts of me. But still my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man’s beliefs.”

“I’ve no language left to say it, but all I do is quake to her. Break it if I try to convey it, the broken love I make to her.”

If you, somehow, have missed the message that Hozier’s music is incredibly political- If you have ignored Nobody’s Soldier, Eat Your Young, and oh, I don’t know, just about 70% of his discography… What do you think this song is about?

It’s also just a really fucking good song.