“I can’t think logically about who I am or where I am going. I have been very ecstatic, horribly depressed, shocked, elated, enlightened, and enervated. I want to come home and vegetate in peace, with the people I love around me for a change.”
— Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Warren Plath written c. June 1953
my brain: respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect the pouch! respect it! respect th
Gregorian monks singing “Boulevard of Broken Dreams.”
EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND LISTEN TO THIS RIGHT FUCKING NOW
Why is this a thing that exists?
THIS IS BEAUTIFUL
“on the boooooolovarrrd of brooookennnn dreeeemmsss”
I turned this on and at that moment my roommate opened the curtains, and I immediately had this epic video in my head of us cleaning our apartment, and raising a castle around it with hammers and magic.
I’ve introduced so many people to Gregorian: the best way to do it is to slip it into a normal playlist.
This is the soundtrack of an angel that was thrown out of heaven unjustly and is existing on earth, and being tracked by an adversary, while an angel friend is preparing to come rescue him.
