real æsthete
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I was so sorry that I would never possess anything good, anything like her, that nothing good would ever belong to me not because I was always poor in dollars but because I was poor at expressing myself one-on-one. I was as yellow as the sun perhaps but also as warm and as true as the sun somewhere there inside me but nobody would ever find it.
Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers At Last
   
   
   

junya watanabe spring / summer 2015

   
I think perfection is ugly. Somewhere in the things humans make, I want to see scars, failure, disorder, distortion.
Yohji Yamamoto
   
   
   
   
   
Staircase At The University

Morrissey

   
   
   
   

If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It’s the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.

Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful, it’s that they’re unconscious. They are default settings.

David Foster Wallace
   
DS