"The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude."

Gabriel Garcia Marquez


Jon Porras, Apeiron

" I wanna riot ‘til the stars come out to play. Is that OK?"

"When you think that you have won then your heartbreak’s just begun…"

So lovely. Ugh.

"If you pay careful attention to the way Ikarians have lived their lives, it appears that a dozen subtly powerful, mutually enhancing and pervasive factors are at work. It’s easy to get enough rest if no one else wakes up early and the village goes dead during afternoon naptime. It helps that the cheapest, most accessible foods are also the most healthful — and that your ancestors have spent centuries developing ways to make them taste good. It’s hard to get through the day in Ikaria without walking up 20 hills. You’re not likely to ever feel the existential pain of not belonging or even the simple stress of arriving late. Your community makes sure you’ll always have something to eat, but peer pressure will get you to contribute something too. You’re going to grow a garden, because that’s what your parents did, and that’s what your neighbors are doing. You’re less likely to be a victim of crime because everyone at once is a busybody and feels as if he’s being watched. At day’s end, you’ll share a cup of the seasonal herbal tea with your neighbor because that’s what he’s serving. Several glasses of wine may follow the tea, but you’ll drink them in the company of good friends. On Sunday, you’ll attend church, and you’ll fast before Orthodox feast days. Even if you’re antisocial, you’ll never be entirely alone. Your neighbors will cajole you out of your house for the village festival to eat your portion of goat meat."

"I’ll probably never produce a masterpiece. But so what? I feel I have a Sound aborning which is my own and that Sound - if erratic - is still my greatest pride, because I would rather write like a dancer than write for the man cloistered in a closet somewhere re-reading Aeschylus while this stupefying world careens crazily past his waxy windows towards one last raving feedback pirouette."
— Lester Bangs
"My Great Uncle got off a boat in World War II with people shooting at him from 50 yards away. I’ve never had a bad day in my life."
— Keith Sarloos


Been a shit-got-real week with the sort of distress that isn’t funny enough to make jokes about or file under your everyday internet melancholia. Given how I have no grasp whatsoever for the usual protocols of comfort everyone has in their times of need, I turn instead to music. Only the shit is so real it’s impervious to my usual doses of feelgood. Thanks to that Guardian article, then, for re-directing me to this (and shame on me for overlooking it, given how Mould is one of the few musical heroes I have left who has yet to let me down). This is the first time in days that a song had sufficient and convincing endorphin and hope in it to make me not only feel better, albeit momentarily and despite having little cause to, but believe without qualifiers that everything will start looking up and Van Morrison’s And The Healing Has Begun will be my witness in no time. Until then, here’s Uncle Bob. At his most beautiful.

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Themed by: Hunson