GD @ 120728 Alive Concert in Guangzou #1!
“DO NOT EDIT!”
Source: Willpopwer86@weibo.com
Conor Gaughan - “We Are Not Arguing Over Chicken” (Huffington Post)
God damn it, there should be anger.
We, as decent people, straight or gay, should all be angry.
(via inothernews)
(Source: thecellofellow, via creativecloud)
i hate crying more than almost anything in the world. not other people (well, sometimes), me crying. it’s horrid because i cry at the most idiotic things.
it’s usually because i’m mad about something but can’t do anything about it. so i bawl my eyes out. it’s not even because i’m sad. i don’t really cry when i’m sad. how messed up is that?!?! fuck.
and the reason most of the time is because of my family. i mean other people upset me too, i might get bullied, or people just say shit about me, or ostracize me, or i make them upset (which makes me feel bad) somehow, and i’m all cool about it. well, i don’t cry at least.
i think it’s because my family frustrates/upsets me so much and i know, deep down, i’ll have to live with these fucking people for the rest of my life. god. i love them and all (mostly because it’s an obligation and i know they feel the same about me)….i really have anger issues don’t i.
i realize that this is such a petty thing compared to other problems people may have in their lives that are far more serious and i apologize if i offend anyone who is reading this. it’s just a personal thing i wanted to write down to help myself feel better with my petty issues. just another fact that i hate about myself. ha.
I don’t know what I’m looking for. No clue. Nada.
“I am always looking for ways to activate a new kind of reality. It is a very physical thing for me, more than an intellectual pursuit.”
Mark Bradford at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. My words on the exhibition in Whitehot Magazine.
I hate pet names. Such as,
This also includes nicknames (although they’re not as bad).
Anytime someone uses anything other than my name, I automatically create mental images of me throttling said person. My mother has probably already noticed my disdain for such terms (although I’ve never expressed it directly), as she’s stopped calling me by anything other than my name for some time now. I forget how many years it’s been. Although she always manages to confuse my sister’s name for mine every single time (and vice versa).
Ugh. They always sound so sarcastic no matter who it comes from. Like the term itself is belittling you. It never sounds like the words they are supposed to be.
I mean, I have a name.
I just don’t understand. The point of it all.