Being a writer takes up so much time
and there is no one there to tell you
it’s right just the wrong wrong wrong
of the elders, flowers in their hair;
Baudelaire with a bouquet tucked under his left breast pocket
in the cimetière du Montparnasse.
All I have is a baguette to fill the hours
and a hand-painted bedsheet
spurning the joys of capitalism.
There is nothing beautiful now that paper is
obsolete
but the trees can flourish in Russia, Herzegovina, Maldova
(via yesmaybeno)
I don’t wear jeans. Most people who are wearing jeans, I feel are doing so because they are lazy. It’s not to say that denim isn’t a fantastic material, or that jeans can’t be part of a really strong expression, but in general, I associate them with people who are being lazy. I like more thoughtful dressing.
— Vincent Gallo on jeans and lazy people (via fuckyeahgallo)
(via gwyon)
Incidentally, if anything didn’t go right for him immediately, he’d just lose interest and grow bored and just abandon the whole thing halfway through.
He usually transformed his old girlfriends and wives at random into whatever came to mind: a weeping willow, or a water faucet, or a fountain in the center of town. He liked to make them weep for the rest of their lives.
‘That was in another country,’ Bill said. ‘And besides all the animals were dead.’
Thou hast committed Fornication: but that was in another country, and besides, the wench is dead.
