ETS 6
(via abandoned-but-loved)
Nurses Dormitory
Training School and Hospital for the Mentally Deficient and Epileptic
April 2013
photo by NTsouprake
(Source: fuckyeahabandonedplaces, via fuckyeahabandonedplaces)
(Source: purrstephanie, via fuckyeahreading)
‘cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs
(via try-to-stay-positive)
”
When you get to a point where you’ve read an amazing number of books, you change. You’ve read so much that what may seem new or interesting to most (and even to the writer of the book you’re reading) is just a variation to you. Your expectations regarding the work change.
Due to subjectivity being what it is, many writers can mistake what’s happening and view it as the books getting worse, not their own aesthetic changing. Two things can happen. One, despair at what they perceive is the dying of quality. You see this a lot with people who hit a certain number of books read: they begin to rail against the dreadfulness of everything. It can lead to bitterness, cynicism, and outright hatred of something they previously loved.
Secondly, and you see this with a lot of artists, is that they begin to gravitate toward something that feels new to them. They seek out ‘artist’s artists’ and are not happy when those voices aren’t welcomed by the mainstream, because these are stories aimed at people who’ve simply consumed a terrific amount of fiction to be able to enjoy the work.
The fate of today’s book bloggers
I like this idea. It makes me wonder whether the same thing can be said not just for books and music (specifically, I’m thinking of the new Savages album), but film… food… everything. Are there certain high water-marks we reach and never really come back from as manic consumers of something?
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(via fuckyeahreading)
(Source: tinderbox210, via seducifer)
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Detroit in Ruins, the photo essay of Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre, Part 2
(soure: the guardian)
(via abandoned-but-loved)
Look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt, right?
(Source: captainshooker, via fuckyesonceuponatime)
