TOMB OF INSOMNIA

Semi-random musings and things of aesthetic appeal

Immature people falling in love destroy each other’s freedom, create a bondage, make a prison. Mature persons in love help each other to be free; they help each other to destroy all sorts of bondages. And when love flows with freedom there is beauty. When love flows with dependence there is ugliness.

A mature person does not fall in love, he or she rises in love. Only immature people fall; they stumble and fall down in love. Somehow they were managing and standing. Now they cannot manage and they cannot stand. They were always ready to fall on the ground and to creep. They don’t have the backbone, the spine; they don’t have the integrity to stand alone.

A mature person has the integrity to stand alone. And when a mature person gives love, he or she gives without any strings attached to it. When two mature persons are in love, one of the great paradoxes of life happens, one of the most beautiful phenomena: they are together and yet tremendously alone. They are together so much that they are almost one. Two mature persons in love help each other to become more free. There is no politics involved, no diplomacy, no effort to dominate. Only freedom and love.

—Osho (via electrichoney)

(via firstorgasm)

I think perfection is ugly. Somewhere in the things humans make, I want to see scars, failure, disorder, distortion.

—Yohji Yamamoto   (via eyesofwolves, konsui)

odditiesoflife:

Spooky Chandelier Shadows

A beautiful light sculpture/chandelier, Forms in Nature, that transforms its surrounding space into a spooky forest of shadows. Artwork designed by Hilden & Diaz.

(via thespianoge)

naughtyrobotics:

public service announcement:

anxiety disorders are not a choice

they are misfiring synapses in the brain that trigger the fear response of the amygdala in the slightest stressful situation or even with no trigger at all

so please never tell anyone to just “get over it
because you can’t just “get over” disrupted function of the amygdala

(via magiksex-venicequeen)

“also…I’m not afraid of your brain” -someone awesome

THIS. This is one of the nicest things I think anyone has ever said to me.

“Awakening” (working title)

This is the beginning of my second attempt at writing a book. Started out as a short story, but is quickly expanding into something far more in-depth.

“JESUS CHRIST! CALM DOWN!”, she screamed, as James continued his descent toward the massive fissure in the earth below, practically bouncing off the walls on his way down.
“Please don’t go down there, at least not without a headlamp…”
“Aw, come on…don’t be so paranoid. I know what I’m doing”, he proclaims. With every step down he takes, she becomes noticeably more anxious, hands trembling, sweating as if it were a hot summer day in the south, even though the air was filled with an icy fog.
“Please just take the damn headlamp, you remember what happened last time, when you forgot it? It’s always that fucking horrible screeching noise, you know they hate it when they can’t see you.”.
At that moment, words escaped from her mouth easily, but somehow the fog acted like a wall. The sound barely made it to his ears.
Without warning, the fog shifts from a pristine white into the most impenetrable black she had ever seen. More than simply an absence of color, this was the absence of everything, At the moment Christine expected to hear a deafening screech, she was met with nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Complete and utter silence.
—
    “…and then I wake up. It’s been this way for 17 days now. I have this dream, always the same dream. Always the same cold sweat. It always happens at exactly the same time.  3:19 AM, on the dot.”
She lets out a desperate sigh and slumps further into the couch, her mind and body exhausted from night after night of the same horrors. Erika, sitting across the room, fidgets in her chair, eyes darting back and forth across the room.
“Erika!”
“What?”
“Uh..nothing. I mean, I dunno, I guess that’s weird…”
“Yeah, no shit it’s weird, and it gets worse. The fear spills out into everything now. I can never get back to sleep. I’m a total zombie at work. I keep screwing up left and right, Patrick is getting pissed. He’s gonna fire me if I can’t get it together.”
Christine and Erika both worked at The Wolf. From the outside, just another run down, hole-in-the-wall dive bar in a rather desolate part of the city. In spite of the odd business hours, and especially odd patrons, it managed to stay afloat. Christine stuck around, because when Patrick actually remembered to pay them, it was more than generous.
“I doubt it, I me—”
“No, seriously Erika, you don’t know him like I do.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
“All right, whatever dude. You’re being fucking weird today.”

Christine stares blankly at Erika for a moment, before fumbling for her keys and rushing toward the door.
“I have to go to work. Make sure you feed the cats”, she barks, slamming the door behind her.

-to be continued-

SLEEPCHAMBER~”Sardonic Ciatrix”

(Source: youtube.com)

victoriousvocabulary: SMOLDER [aka SMOULDER] [verb] 1. to burn without flame; undergo slow or suppressed combustion. 2. a very low and muted flame. 3. to exist or continue in a suppressed state or without outward demonstration. 4. to display repressed feelings, as of indignation, anger, or the like. [noun] 5. dense smoke resulting from slow or suppressed combustion. 6. a smoldering fire. Etymology: Middle English smolder - smoky vapour, dissimilated variant of smorther - smother; (v.) Middle English (as present participle smolderende), derivative of the noun. [Judson Huss]

victoriousvocabulary:

SMOLDER [aka SMOULDER]

[verb]

1. to burn without flame; undergo slow or suppressed combustion.

2. a very low and muted flame.

3. to exist or continue in a suppressed state or without outward demonstration.

4. to display repressed feelings, as of indignation, anger, or the like.

[noun]

5. dense smoke resulting from slow or suppressed combustion.

6. a smoldering fire.

Etymology: Middle English smolder - smoky vapour, dissimilated variant of smorther - smother; (v.) Middle English (as present participle smolderende), derivative of the noun.

[Judson Huss]

  • So after ruminating over this for months, I have reached a decision. Noctis, as a live entity, is no more. Only recordings from here on out. The culmination of this project, everything else has been an important step forward on the path which is continually renewing and revealing itself through the lens of Chaos. I would just like to take a moment to thank every one of you who have helped to manifest this often tumultuous vision of mine through your continual support over the last 4 years.