mtadkins

Soundtracking my day with ‘Seafaring’ by Last Days:

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Glenn Greenwald: “Trump’s Muslim Ban is Culmination of War on Terror Mentality but Still Uniquely Shameful”

“And the reason Trump is able so easily to tap into a groundswell of anti-Muslim fears and bigotry is because they have been cultivated for 16 years as the central fuel driving the War on Terror. There are factions on both the center-left and right that are primarily devoted to demonizing Muslims and Islam.”

Your daily dose of the obvious, yet regrettably-needing-to-be-pointed-out….

I hide my fears
way down, way down
where you dry your tears
way down, way down

I can’t keep living like this
trying to remember your kiss
you made my silly little dreams
oh I don’t wanna fall asleep
We’re spinning out of control
my teeth are shaking in the cold
I can’t keep living like this
I know

We were born apart
too old, too old
& we were torn apart
you know, you know

that there are tangerine skies
awaiting our failing eyes
‘time leads to healing’ you said
time leads to dying leads to dead
I’m losing sight of what’s right
you’re awkward putting up a fight

this was the way it began
this will be the way it ends
way down, way down
way down, way down
way down, way down

• The Washboard Abs, “Way Down” [on Bandcamp]

Been listening to these LPs for weeks. Go buy them now…its “name your price” so you can’t complain.

Tuesday, there’s a false start.

A mistaken understanding of time. Tuesday, we will wake, and walk to our normal places – our showers, kitchens, cars, desks – only to find the day never began. We will slowly notice an absence of all matter, all light, all time.

And then, as suddenly as we false-started, we will begin our actual day. And everything will happen the same. Only, because of our awareness of it all, it will happen differently. Less differently at first, but more differently later.

– Night Vale #36

“It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.”

F.Scott Fitzgerald