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This is, hopelessly, a love letter.

All three windows in my living room are open. The radiator’s right underneath and the heat fights the cold that comes in and I guess we get an equilibrium inside. This week is the week that it really starts to get cold. I’ll be perpetually miserable until my birthday (not literally so, but less excited than I would like to be).

I thought about you today. I like thinking about you. I thought about your laughs, obviously. I thought about the lines on your face, like the ripples spread across your cheeks when you smile, or the ones dividing the muscles that I like touching, heh. I thought about the way you kind of flop your feet when you walk in your apartment looking for things we threw around carelessly the night before. I thought about how you’re only slightly taller than me, but warm enough to make me feel okay to be little. In short, I miss your fucking face.

I thought about your voice, the way you say your words. The way you pronounce the “h” in “wh-“ vocabs. I almost corrected you the first time you asked me why? In the end I’d just think it was cute and amusing and just stare at you when you say them.

I think on our first date when you first leaned in and kissed me I had to keep on telling you to go slower. I felt so comfortable with you and wanted to forget about haste. The night was great but I’d rather be some place else, some place where we can measure a second by the length of our kiss, instead of the distracting ticking of a clock. And man, when I saw the size of your bed I almost wished that your ceiling would open up, and the bed would carry us up into the vast sky. We’d just chill up there and think about only ourselves.

(In a way I’m insanely jealous of the me back then, just starting to get to know you, still had so much time with you.)

(In context, I used to be so comfortable in writing romantic shit. It would come naturally and I would let it bleed out of me and even if it hurt I’d be enjoying the process. It was a sadistic healing. But after some time and some experiences I guess I became a much more practical person and stopped myself from writing this kind of shit. So I’m at a bipolar state here. In a way I’m still comfortable composing this to you, but also cringing at the fact that I’m writing about the lovey dovey. This, however, does not disapprove any content of this letter.)

The windows in my bedroom were open too. I woke up too early this morning, nothing outside seemed ready. I turned on my phone and the first thing I saw was a good morning text from you. And immediately the gray rainy sky could go suck my dick. That’s how I feel about you in a nutshell.


Ad Reinhardt, from ‘How to Look at Art, Arts & Architecture’ (1946)


Ad Reinhardt, from ‘How to Look at Art, Arts & Architecture’ (1946)

(via theclassifieds)

We lay there and feel ironic. What’s happening right now is the mirroring of what happened two years ago. I’m spilling indifference back to you. You’re accusing me of faults I could’ve accused you of two years ago.

Apparently if you stare into an even space that’s more than 70 ft away, it can look like infinity. That’s what the silence between us feels like.

What did you want?

You don’t say anything.

I turn to you and all I see is your mouth trembling. I’ve been slipping down. I’m tired as fuck so I close my eyes and turn my face to the cold wall. I spread my cheek against it. It feels nice. I close my eyes and when I almost fall into the bottom of the night -

What I want,

You finished the sentence by taking my hand. Closely, and slowly intertwine. You hold it tight. You raise it up.

I can’t help but think you’ve planned this to be as cinematic as it is.

I cry anyway.



I think she’s in love with someone who actually treats her well because she never writes about love.

— Kate Monica (via fiverrwasright)

(via katejustkate)

Moon Boy

(Source: airows, via commovente)




I guess it’s time to post the song that got me into the Japanese music scene initially, Curtain Call by the band Mechanero. I was hesitant on featuring this band at all solely for the fact that I know nearly nothing about them, so this post will be focusing on my personal experience with this song. 

I had always been interested in bands like The Pillows and Asian Kung-fu Generation, but as great as those artists are, I don’t think they really encapsulated what Japanese indie had to offer. Instead they served as a kind of beacon to international fans. However, when I was maybe 15 I found the music video for this song and fell totally head over heels for it immediately. Every aspect of Mechanero was what I regarded the perfect band to be like. The lo-fi aesthetic and editing of the video, the acid-washed screentone, and the catchy keyboard break that made this song completely infectious. 

After trying for so long to find anything from this band I gave up and eventually forgot about them. It’s always been kind of an odd form of memorabilia to listen to this song and think about the amount of times i’ve (like many others) stumbled upon a band or song I loved through the internet, but had no luck in getting any information about them, or had anyone to talk about them with. It’s that unexplainable feeling of isolation yet excitement you get with songs like this. Anyway, unfortunately I still don’t have any information to share about Mechanero other than the fact that they have broken up and formed other bands. Hopefully you can take this post for what it is and enjoy one of my favorite songs of all time, which ultimately is the reason this blog was started in the first place. Enjoy, this is Curtain Call. 

(via collidingoceans)

Lil day

(Source: doodooprincess, via riri-neko)