piece of my heart

I think receiving this would floor anyone.

if love was like this, it would be better

animal collective continues to amaze me, shatter my heart and make
it melt like glossy wax. i prefer the EP version of this but it still retains
its lush charms. they have this unparalleled ability to make music
that when you hear it and close your eyes it somehow becomes an
all consuming experience. i want to dress in candy floss and float on
lurex carpets and kiss fishes and dance like i'm upside down and eat
luscious leaves like how this song sounds. there is sense in that to me.

heart in your kitchen

can you see what i see?

and now?

yes, there is it...

your heart in my kitchen

one of the most endearing responses i have received from a valentine i sent...

heart part

heart+hearts

i make your heart shake, these memories can't wait

dearest human hearts,

i hope this finds you with a happy heart, full and pumping.

after many requests and a cosmic collision with an iranian dream of a lady...

it is my greatest pleasure and a dream awake to say that this year

my valentines are for sale at a beautiful museum like shop...

Maryam Nassir Zadeh.

a journey, a comfort and an inspiration-a display in impeccable, creative taste

the valentines are inspired by iranian lottery tickets, indian currency, ancient mysticism,

pomegranates and hieroglyphics and each one i have painted, printed, assembled and

dyed with my hands and the envelopes too.

i hope them to be the perfect gift. i am immensely proud of this happening and 

hope you'll check it.

and i promise you, you will hold a piece of my heart in your hands. intended pun.

MARYAM NASSIR ZADEH

123 Norfolk Street at Rivington Street (across from Schiller's Liquor Bar)

Lower East Side 

NYC

please check out the amazing space maryam and uday have assembled and 

support them and tell them you do.

+

i donated a bunch of my valentines, though not quite as elaborate but lovely

nonetheless, to Fred Flare, the online shop and store-

mine and heaps of others are for sale and all proceeds are being given to

Elder Craftsmen, a rad charity that brings craft workshops to local old people.

so please support their shop front or make an online purchase

Fred Flare

131 Meserole Ave at Leonard Street

Greenpoint Brooklyn

with all the love that can possibly pour out of me,

a and le futur possible

i saw freedom and fireflies

i have the extreme pleasure of living in close vicinity of this talented front man,

who penned this tune and recorded the video for his love, ms t bird.

a work of love that is a work of art.

'ocean's apart by the bogmen'

words adorned with sails

their first kiss was witnessed by the Seine River carrying gondolas of street lamps

reflections in its spangled folds, carrying haloed street lamps flowering on the bushes of

black laquered cobblestones, carrying silver filigree trees opened like fans beyond whose

rim the river's eyes provoked them to hidden coquetries, carrying the humid scarfs of

fog and the sharp incense of roasted chestnuts.

everything fallen into the river and carried away except the balcony on which

they stood.

their kiss was accompanied by the street organ and it lasted the whole length of

the musical score of Carmen, and when it ended it was too late; they had drunk the

potion to its last drop.

the potion drunk by lovers is prepared by no one but themselves.

the potion is the sum of one's whole existence.

every word spoken in the past accumulated forms and colors in the self. what

flows through the veins besides blood is the distillation of every act committed, the

sediment of all the visions, wishes, dreams, and experiences. all the past emotions

converge to tint the skin and flavor the lips, to regulate the pulse and produce

crystals in the eyes.

the fascination exerted by one human being over another is not what he emits

of his personality at the present instant of encounter but a summation of his entire

being which gives off this powerful drug capturing the fancy and attachment.

no moment of charm without long roots in the past, no moment of charm

is born on bare soil, a careless accident of beauty, but is the sum of great sorrows,

growths, and efforts.

but love, the great narcotic, was the hothouse in which all the selves burst

into their fullest bloom...

love the great narcotic was the revealer in the alchemist's bottle rendering

visible the most untraceable substances

love the great narcotic was the agent provocateur exposing all the secret

selves to daylight

love the great narcotic lined fingertips with clairvoyance

pumped iridescence into the lungs for transcendental x-rays

printed new geographies in the lining of the eyes

adorned words with sails, ears with velvet mutes

and soon the balcony tipped their shadows into the river, too, so that

the kiss might be baptized in the holy waters of continuity.

taken from the four-chambered heart by anais nin

what a beautiful gift to find her at this moment.

your love is right in front of my eyes.

i'm amazed it took this long to occur to me i could be seeing through hearts.

considering my love and fascination with the human heart. and hearts of all sorts.

the search begins for the perfect pair and i see lanvin and karl jumping on this for spring oh nine.