Today the individual has become the highest form, and the greatest bane, of artistic creation. The smallest wound or pain of the ego is examined under a microscope as if it were of eternal importance. The artist considers his isolation, his subjectivity, his individualism almost holy. Thus we finally gather in one large pen, where we stand and bleat about our loneliness without listening to each other and without realizing that we are smothering each other to death. The individualists stare into each other’s eyes and yet deny each other’s existence. We walk in circles, so limited by our own anxieties that we can no longer distinguish between true and false, between the gangster’s whim and the purest ideal.
Ingmar Bergman. (via shanakht)
Chatter, chatter: liberty, equality, fraternity, love, honour, patriotism and what have you. All this did not prevent us from making anti-racial speeches about dirty niggers, dirty Jews and dirty Arabs. High-minded people, liberal or just soft-hearted, protest that they were shocked by such inconsistency; but they were either mistaken or dishonest, for with us there is nothing more consistent than a racist humanism since the European has only been able to become a man through creating slaves and monsters.
Frantz Fanon - The Wretched of the Earth. (via bustakay)
For the only way one can speak of nothing is to speak of it as though it were something, just as the only way one can speak of God is to speak of him as though he were a man, which to be sure he was, in a sense, for a time, and as the only way one can speak of man, even our anthropologists have realized that, is to speak of him as though he were a termite.
Samuel Beckett, Watt (via yesyes)
El silencio es fundamental, significa el basamento donde se apoyan todos los sonidos, empezando por la música. La resolución de vivir, de pensar, de morir, de llorar o de rezar siempre parte del silencio. A través del silencio, uno acomoda el alma ya sea para el rezo, para montar a caballo o para la copla. Cuando termina la tarde hay un gran silencio que prepara la noche, es ‘la hora azul de las vidalas’. Sin ese silencio no habría vidalas.. Las grandes ciudades se fagocitan al hombre y le roban tantas cosas… y el gran ausente es el silencio
Atahualpa Yupanqui (via avenidadelospoetas)


Frank O’Hara’s birthday again (Mar. 27, 1926 - 1966). Let’s have a song!



Is it dirty
does it look dirty
that’s what you think of in the city

does it just seem dirty
that’s what you think of in the city
you don’t refuse to breathe do you

someone comes along with a very bad character
he seems attractive. is he really. yes very
he’s attractive as his character is bad. is it. yes

that’s what you think of in the city
run your finger along your no-moss mind
that’s not a thought that’s soot

and you take a lot of dirt off someone
is the character less bad. no. it improves constantly
you don’t refuse to breathe do you

Originally written 1951 - from Poems Retrieved (City Lights, 2013)

Reading by Frank O’Hara, 1965

(via aspiringivory)