Bon Iver, Bon Iver


First it was For Emma, Forever Ago. The soul in a refraction of icicles. A moment hanging like breath on air. And yet life – even still life – is not still. The story is not a story if it does not unravel. Your eyes you may cast backward, but the heart is locked in the chest and must beat forever forward. Bon Iver, Bon Iver is the frozen beast pressing upward from a loosening earth, one ear cocked to the echo of the ghost choir still singing, the other craving the martial call of drums tumbling, of thrum and wheeze. The desolation smoke has dissipated, cut with strips of brass. Celebration will not be denied, the cabinet cannot contain the rattle, there is meat on the bones.

From the bio on Bon Iver’s website. 

portraitoftheartistasayoungman says, “Not only do I not know what any of this means, it’s the most pretentious, insufferable mess of writing I can remember. Who needs a drink?”

I know people in creative writing programs that write communicate express themselves in such a manner. My stomach hurts.

(via thenoobyorker)

man I’ve backed up justin vernon on a lot of things but if this isn’t the dumbest sack of words I’ve ever read in my life I don’t know what is

(via thenoobyorker)

Notes

  1. iambeelzebub reblogged this from thenoobyorker
  2. michaelherzog reblogged this from portraitoftheartistasayoungman
  3. rachaelcamille reblogged this from absurdistaudio and added:
    Jesus Christ, is this real?
  4. postmodernism reblogged this from thenoobyorker and added:
    words I’ve ever read in my life
  5. portraitoftheartistasayoungman posted this