HAIR PRODUCTS (LIKE SHAMPOO AND CONDITIONER) ARE MOSTLY USELESS.
The hair that is visible on the human body is dead hair – when hair is alive it is still beneath the surface of the skin. Nothing you add to the hair can make it healthier – it can merely add shine or color. Once the hair is out, there is nothing you can do to make it healthier.
One of the new things people began to find out in the last century was that thoughts—just mere thoughts—are as powerful as electric batteries—as good for one as sunlight is, or as bad for one as poison. To let a sad thought or a bad one get into your mind is as dangerous as letting a scarlet fever germ get into your body. If you let it stay there after it has got in you may never get over it as long as you live… surprising things can happen to any one who, when a disagreeable or discouraged thought comes into his mind, just has the sense to remember in time and push it out by putting in an agreeable determinedly courageous one. Two things cannot be in one place.
“Where you tend a rose, my lad, A thistle cannot grow.”
You can’t say it, don’t ever to say it. It’s not tangible, it’s not even relevant. A warm hand, a short skirt, a soft blanket, a trusty appliance, a 57 in mathematics and science. An oxygen mask. They stick it and they’ll never come back. They’ll never come back anymore. Are you with me and am I wrong?
“If a man is offered a fact which goes against his instincts, he will scrutinize it closely, and unless the evidence is overwhelming, he will refuse to believe it. If, on the other hand, he is offered something which affords a reason for acting in accordance to his instincts, he will accept it even on the slightest evidence. The origin of myths is explained in this way.”—Bertrand Russell.
Recently I have been flipping through my massive collection of albums, a myriad of pieces both heavily beloved and barely played. For the latter group, it’s not necessarily their fault: the music industry is so obsessed with getting more and more fresh material to listen to, it’s a wonder how any record is listened to more than once nowadays. The result of this obsession is a graveyard of under-appreciated masterpieces. Do your ears a favor and forget the Pitchfork reviews tonight. Go dig up some graves.
“I breathe in and you breathe out, and I’ve been wishing you well since the day you were born. Hoping that you were kissing all the wrong mouths and moving in all of the proper directions to get to me, every slight of your hand has moved you closer to me. Every moment you lost someone you loved, every girl you’ve broken and who has broken you, every lost tooth and skinned knee add long night, every haircut and chest cold, every stranger you spoke to and every stranger that you never got a chance to speak to, every broken bone and busted blood vessell, and pair of shaking hands, every sleeping bag, old t-shirt, cliff, mountain and crack in the cement, every leap you took, every chance you missed, every bad morning, and every fight with your father, every letter you’ve received, every prescription you filled, and the pills you didn’t swallow. All of the places you’ve seen, the melted snow, the bloody noses, the people you’ve missed, the whispers you’ve uttered, the black eyes, the awkward silences, the airplane trails in the sky, the pollution, the paragraphs you spoke, the books you didn’t read, the dirty water, the handme downs, the times you’ve been caught, the games of rock paper scissors, the stray hairs, the upset stomachs, the exposed negatives, the shattered lenses, the long exposures, the stomach in your throat, the bad songs, the indigestion, the dogwood flowers, the burns, the blisters, the songs on repeat, the scars on your hands from every mistake you’ve ever made, have brought you here, to me, to this moment suspended in time, finally. Finale.”—Alexis Mire.