Jirashimosu @jirashimosu (Athens) • Collective gay friends app

Jirashimosu @jirashimosu

Athens, GR

art

music

food

movies

No one else decides what art is, no one can stop you loving whatever you like, the cynics and critics can have control of all the other crap on the planet . . . but they can’t decide how hard your heart beats!

there’s so much room in a person, there should be more of us in here. There shouldn’t be just one.

A half‑life was all I merited, I told myself. I didn’t deserve what came so easily to other men. Who, after all, would want to touch someone as soiled as me?

“The stage is empty / the real storm rages backstage.”

People barely had room to grieve the loss of others, let alone pieces of themselves. And yet, unmourned, such fragments were bound to haunt.

In attempting to possess something that was never there we lost something we already had

new old martha / old new me

There’s often this feeling of—Yes, I like you, but I like other people as well. It’s not even that I like them more. It’s just that I don’t like them less.

Can things be unsaid and undone, can the clock run both ways, backward and forward, can the story unspool in both directions?

Happiness felt very far away, and like something only the innocent were entitled to.

“Writing is my only consolation. It’s a companion, someone with whom I can talk, eat, sleep, at whose side I can dream and have nightmares, the only friend whose company I can bear at present.”

It was love, of course. And tomorrow, there will be a great emptiness.

When I go, brother, you better tremble, ‘cause I ain’t going to go in silence.

There are two things that necessitate violence: overthrowing capitalism, and love.

I think I’m kind of a poet because when I finally find a deer left behind by a herd I eat the heart first

The environment where they slept and worked, and which they themselves had chosen and shaped, was the one tangible manifestation of who they were.

First generation builds the house, second generation lives in it, third generation burns it down.

Unredeemable Sunday Colors

How smart is it to get mad at a mountain? Either climb it or go around it, but don’t spend a lifetime waiting for it to move. Only a fool does that.

people are always building a web of lies around a kernel of truth and calling it honesty

our evenings are rarely our own

Marianne Faithfull was the irrefutable proof that from our ashes, the most essential, complete, and powerful version of ourselves can emerge. 20th Century Blues will forever play, hoarse and smoke-laden, scratching the polish of the most expensive surface.