japanese Firefox poster, 1982
Lykke Li - Little Bit
Saints have to come from hell, not heaven.
Sometimes I leave my workout feeling as though I’ve overcome something, that I’ve put myself to the test and emerged triumphant. Then on that seemingly endless journey from garage to bathroom, I’ll begin to strip off my hand wraps and sweat soaked football jersey (the colours of a club I feel no particular loyalty or affection towards) and bask for a brief moment in the glow of being closer to some ill-defined and inarticulable goal.
But sometimes on the long walk back I’m struck by a very particular memory or a specific regret, and I’ll want to turn back and start the whole day’s programme again, and again, and again, fists landing like waves against a craggy coastline until my hands are bloody stumps and maybe then I’ll be able to fucking live with myself.
The car scene from Before Sunset. I must’ve seen this a dozen times but, fuck man, I never really listened to it.
Thom Yorke - And It Rained All Night