‘Alas I Cannot Swim’ is another one of my all-time favourite songs. Sung by Laura Marling, its lyrics are thoughtful and original and living proof it isn’t always necessary to have extraordinarily heavy electronic beats to make an amazing song. This song comes from her very first solo album, titled the same.
One of the things I love about the song is that the whole thing’s a big metaphor, and it’s an extremely relevant one, at least for me. It’s terrible that we live in a society that only allows pleasure to those who they determine deserve it, those who are wealthy, those deemed ‘hardworking’.
"I would rather be dry than held up by a golden gun saying
“Each second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that will never be again. And what do we teach our children? We teach them that two and two make four, and that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are? We should say to each of them: Do you know what you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In all the years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. Your legs, your arms, the way you move. You may become a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven. You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel. And when you grow up, can you then harm another who is, like you, a marvel? You must work, we must all work, to make the world worthy of its children.”—Pablo Picasso (via atomos)
“I like to live in the sound of water, in the feel of the mountain air. A sharp reminder hits me: this world still is alive; it stretches out there shivering toward its own creation, and I’m part of it. Even my breathing enters into this elaborate give-and-take, this bowing to sun and moon, day and night, winter, summer, storm, still—this tranquil chaos that seems to be going somewhere. This wilderness with a great peacefulness in it. This motionless turmoil, this everything dance.”—William Stafford (via slekes)
Nausea greeted her like an old friend, wrapping its smoky fingers around her neck, sooty tendrils tightening until totally smothered and suffocated in blind pain.
Why was she caught off guard?
Surely, surely she must have known!
For there are certain things in life that go hand in hand, bread and butter, paper and pen, words and writers, Bianca and sadness.
And if just for a little while, if just for the shortest period of time, she were to feel happy, this most certainly did not mean she should have felt surprised!
She was disappointed with herself for hoping.
She closed her eyes, trying desperately to be distracted. Colours, she thought, and in her head, there came a swirling red dot, growing larger as it gained velocity, spinning madly out of control. The vermillion monster suddenly was caught off guard, by gentle waves of ultramarine, dotted with specks of brilliant, burning white. Slices of green, jagged and sharp, with crimson swirls on top of each spiky end. It didn’t work, though.
At the corner of her mind, chuckling to itself, sat envy, poised and pretentious and evil.
Painfully, she got up, her eyes adjusting to the sickening brightness of the outside world. In moods like these, one was best left alone in the dark, both drowning and wallowing in self-pity, until so saturated with sorrow the only thing left to do is get up and stop.
But Bianca could not sit in a room, Bianca could not let sleep blissfully take over the murky darkness of her brain. She had to go to school, to school, to school.
People whispered, they looked in disgust at the monster. This was not a girl, not anymore. This was the ghost of a girl, transparent and unperturbed.
At least to them.
At least to them, she seemed unperturbed. They did not know that inside, her conscience was eating her heart, shattering her soul into tiny fragments of unfixable and irreplaceable china. They did not know that she was a victim, they did not know that she was as hurt as the one she had hurt.
There were a lot of things they didn’t know:
· They didn’t know that at seven, Bianca saw Sophie push a girl who had a long, dark plait down the stairs on purpose.
· They didn’t know that when they were ten, Sophie laughed at Bianca for not being able to go tell Jimmy-the-neighbor that she sort of kind of liked him.
· They did not know that Sophie had cried a whole ten hours when she found out that N’Sync broke up.
· They did not know that the week before the incident, Sophie told Bianca that Mitchell had given her a ring, and asked her to marry him (even though they were just eighteen).
· They especially did not know that Mitchell made the first move, and she had tried, with all the force she could muster, to push him away.
She thought of all the possible ways to escape, and all the reasons she shouldn’t have had to.
She tried, honest.
She tried to hear the hum of happy memories, but they were covered by hatred and haplessness.
At six am the next morning, the ink on the newspapers are still fresh.
The Writer was the very first song I heard by Ellie Goulding, and since then it’s been one of my favourite songs of hers.
She has an amazing voice, and the way she controls it while singing just never fails to amaze me.She’s been one of my favourite singers for quite some time now, and it just makes it that much more difficult me to enjoy other artists whose songs contain one sentence repeated over and over againin the same pitch.
“A good night’s sleep helps you perform well in school, and so if you’re a student you should always get a good night’s sleep unless you have come to the good part of your book, and then you should stay up all night and let your schoolwork fall by the wayside.”—Lemony Snicket, The Austere Academy (via literarynerd)
“I’d like to repeat the advice that I gave you before, in that I think you really should make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt.
So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservatism, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future.
The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.”—Christopher McCandless | “Into the Wild” by Jon Krakauer (via julie911)
Skinny Love is one of my all-time favourite songs, and though it was originally written by Justin Vernon and sung later by his band Bon Iver, a cover by a fourteen year old artist named Birdy is the version more popular amongst most.
Personally, I adore Birdy’s version just as much as Bon Iver’s, but nothing ever truly replaces its original. Justin Vernon’s unique voice and truly chilling lyrics are hard to find in today’s auto-tuned industry.