drowned ?


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daily inspirarion, thoughts and quotes
probably music, probably art, probably fashion
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@callmetempo

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На досуге переводил статью про drug references в моде
Делюсь тут 🙌




А что, если я просто забыл выключить динамики и слышу звуки незакрытых вкладок. А что, если мой плюшевый медведь снова оказался накрыт покрывалом после моего тревожного полуночного пробуждения? А что, если я забыл закрыть на замок входную дверь и ее открыло сквозняком. Никто не обещает, что я не могу сейчас лежать и наслаждаться присутствием близких мне людей, а как только я поверну голову, я не увижу никого. Вдруг я переименовал вкладку с сохраненными сообщениями, чтобы не чувствовать себя так одиноко. Вдруг я сбился со счета времени и бесцельно провожу его наедине с собой. А может я существую вне его. Может, мой мир ограничен моей квартирой, закрытые двери и окна которой не гарантируют, что он не бесконечен. С каждым днем я все больше задумываюсь о том, что нет гарантии того, что я не придумал свою жизнь. Ведь мне никто никогда ничего не обещал. Может потому, что я не хочу себе врать?




"wait, wait, again?"
she was looking at me with sorrow in her deep eyes. as deep, as it takes for a mature human to drown.
i didn't have an answer. actually, i bet, she knows everything and just wants to test me. well, of course, i did it again. but i can't just tell it her.
"it was the only one possible outcome, i'm sorry"
oh god, why did i say that? her sad face started getting angry. if a couple minutes ago she would forgive me after an awkward silence, now she is mad at me.
but accidently, she let her eyes down, exhaled and continued:
"It's not even funny no more"
after she left, i couldn't deal with a feeling of confusion. and the worst thing is, that i agreed with her. but if i will show my agreement, that will mean, that she has control over me. and it's too much for an "ordinary".
i was sitting on a sofa in front of window, which gave me an outstanding view of the sleeping city.
a week ago i gave a stranger a gasoline can for free. she told me, that i'm horrible person. i told her, that he is free now. and nobody can judge, who is right.
everybody needs a person, who can listen to them, without saying a word. or a notebook. i prefer the second one. and now, i need to transfer my thoughts on a paper.

"...people dream of control of other people. but nobody understands, that when they have control for someone else, they start losing their own one. especially me.

the storyteller."

1:14 a.m. a perfect time to convince someone to book a flight to heaven. or, maybe, not tonight...




Playboi Carti - Die Lit

Да, речь сегодня пойдет именно об этом альбоме, о котором уже многие успели негативно высказаться. Давайте попытаемся воспринять его более обьективно.

Overall
Альбом вышел 11 мая утром (10 мая ночью по EST) и уже после первого прослушивания оставил приятное впечатление, имхо. Хоть и сравнивая пластинку с "Playboi Carti" мы имеем более слабую лирику со стороны Карти, список гостей явно стал длиннее и биты вышли на совершено новый уровень (им стоит уделить отдельное внимание, об этом позже). После выпуска трэп-альбома, ориентированого на широкую аудиторию, "Die Lit" звучит действительно холоднее и мрачнее.

Биты
Вот тут кроется одна из самых интересных частей альбома. Большинство битов спродюсировал Pi'erre Bourne - крайне талантливый битмейкер, породивший большое количество мемов (хотя бы из-за своего тэга "Yo, Pi'erre, you wanna come out here") и один из моих фрешменов 2018. Они достаточно однотипны по своей структуре, но тем не менее звучат свежо и выделяются друг среди друга. Работа Пьера на этом альбоме достойна огромной похвалы. Жду его на XXL Freshman 2018 😌

Если брать отдельные треки, то среди всех хочу выделить:

Love Hurts (feat. Travis Scott)
Это тот трек, где гость не спасает его своим присутствием, а дополняет звучание самого Карти. Бит великолепен и не похож ни на что, что я слышал ранее. Текстовая составляющая обоих исполнителей радует слух. Конечно, на фоне громких пластинок J.Cole'a и Post Malone'a, многие не согласятся со мной, но я считаю этот трек лучшим треком мая 😩 Два дня слушал только его и до сих пор не надоедает.

Lean 4 Real (feat. Skepta)
Снова отдам должное Пьеру - звуки сверчков на заднем плане это гениально. На выходе получаем расслабленный трек с отличным куплетом Карти. Он не имеет сверхестественной лирики, но при этом звучит стильно. ("Shoutout Midnight, (N)ine"). А Skepta тут лишний 😬 Если бы Карти сделал весь трек в стиле своего первого куплета, то, готов поспорить, это стало бы хитом.

Poke It Out
Еще один цепляющий трек, который, увы, испортила Nicki Minaj 😪. Куплеты двух исполнителей звучат слишком по-разному. Но куплет Карти - 🔥

И так
Карти выпустил хорошую пластинку, которая порадует старых фанатов и, маловероятно, привлечет новую аудиторию. Советую каждому, кто еще не слушал - эти 58 минут вашего времени того стоят.




"...fresh warm air filled his lungs. night is so special - even air has it's own smell. especially on 17th floor, far enough from rotten society. staying on the balcony and looking straight down, the only thing that matters him now is to inhale more essence of the night, before someone notices, that he is gone.
he promised himself to stop attending parties a week ago. also two weeks ago. actually, every week since march starts with promise to change his lifestyle. but, anyway, something keeps him coming here.
the best word to describe people in this place is "crowd". like, how can he explain to "grown-up" people, why he lies in his bed, smiling at midnight instead of sleep? or why is he sitting on a window frame with his legs hanging outside? the only thing they looking for - cheap alcohol, thrills and company. huh, too boring, isn't it?
oh damn, someone is coming
"dan?"
crap.
"what the hell is going on, danny, get out of here immediately!"
well, i got to explain her something. but definetly not yet.
"Bye, Ann"

The most horrible thing to realise, while you are falling down, is fact, that nobody will discover the sanity of your mind in a giant pile of careless people. I hate crowds..."

Ann started crying

"Oh my, i gave her the wrong fairytale..."






"mommy, when there will be more briefs out of space?"
i was staying in my bedroom with 7-years old daughter, falling asleep on my shoulder, without any hint of possible answer. "Honey, your dad is on a very important mission. Soon he will have opportunity to write more" - I replied calmly and quietly, trying not to act nervous.
Ann is too young to notice something strange or, furthermore, to lose trust to Janet, her mom. Finally, she is sleeping and careful mom has time to improvise and think about answers on her questions.
It's always was hard for her to enter this room. She takes the nearest note out of all on the table. Ann always called her a magician, because of fairytales she brought from her father. "He is such a talented writer" - Jane always repeated.
Correcting fairytales is almost finished. She tries to stop tears as hard, as it possible. Gave up, she opens a blue folder on the table with a marked red word.
Schizophrenia.
"...far sweet planet, full of unicorns" - I saw it in my dream today! - Ann screams happily. Her mother is smiling with nails dug in her arms.

Hello. My name is Steven. I hung myself three years ago. My lightbulb exploded and i needed some light to continue working. I always loved to predict my daughters dreams. I wrote a date with a dream, which she will see on this day. My wife always told me to stop doing it, but I haven't listened to her. I wanted to entertain my sweet child.

Janet takes the original "fairytale"
"...deep sunken place, filled with demons"

Anyway, I love her too much. She always was the only person, who understood me.

A 7-years old daugher was sleeping on Janet's shoulder.
"Mommy, voices in my head said, that they love you.But don't tell them, they asked to keep this as secret."






1:22 a.m.
he still can't realise, what keeps him coming here again and again. spending nights in that way became a routine. at first, his months used to end in oppressive loneliness, then weeks, and now every evening turns into silent rides to the nearest parking lot, which is usually abandoned at night. thanks god, shopping malls are closed and nobody can disturb him. same job, same car, same songs and same thoughts - nothing changed after 10 years. only his cigarettes have changed - heavy nicotine sticks instead of the light ones. he lies on the roof of the vintage car after parking it on the same place, where it was staying 10 years ago.
1:46 a.m.
time is passing by quickly. quiet alternative rock, lighted up cigarette and a man on a roof of his car, pretending that he is alone in this universe. his watch rings - 1:47 a.m.
10 years passed, and he still remembers and keeps everything with him. her favorite cigarettes, car, where most of their dates took place, her clock, her favorite song, they used to listen together, and smell of her hair, which follows him everywhere.
today one cigarrete is not enough, so he takes another one. where is she now? this question haunts him still. who were they? like, good friends? well, no. lovers? unlikely. the word to describe them doesn't exist.
he takes gasoline can from the backseat of the car. oh, that night, when they were staying on the rooftop of unknown house and smoking these cigarretes. they were laughing a lot, when she unexpectedly extinguished her cigarrete in his arm. he still remembers this feeling - painful, but satisfying.
2:00 a.m.
lonely car is staying on a parking lot, covered in gasoline inside and outside. he sits in, closes his eyes and throws burning cig on the backseat. finally, his thoughts covered him physically. like a thousand of extinguished cigarettes simultaneously.
painful, but satisfying




...and like, she really loved flowers. i still think, that covering my skin with tattoed roses, peonies and cherry blossom is my best idea yet. in fact, it's good enough, that she never paid much attention to me. hope she will never notice signs of my favorite hobby - drawing fake flowers along my stab wounds.

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