Monday, 26 August 2013

Letters from Nowhere

A few seconds ago I came across this post by (x) and after the first couple of sentences I realized that the writer has finally put to words the feelings I have never quite understood.

Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film.

"Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid" this reminded me of that post I made here a few months ago about the way things looked in 90s movies, and how they look like in real life and the quite upsetting and disappointing differences. 

And I just found this stunning..because it's true. The best consolation is in the knowledge that sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film. And that is something I will forever hold on to. 

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