SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA: NIETZSCHE’S DEMONS

I want to write down everything I know about being afraid, but I’d probably never have enough time to write anything else. Afraid is a country where they issue us passports at birth and hope we never seek citizenship in any other country. The face of afraid keeps changing constantly, and I can count on that change. I need to travel light and fast, and there’s a lot of baggage I’m going to have to leave behind me. Jettison cargo. ~Audre Lorde

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What if some day or night a demon were to steal into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: “This life as you now live and have lived it you will have to live once again and innumerable times again; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unspeakably small or great in your life must return to you, all in the same succession and sequence — even this spider and this moonlight between the trees, and even this moment and I myself…” ~Nietzsche

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a friendly platanito seller in the park. the kind of smile you welcome in the mornings.

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buying flowers
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eye contact

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Nietzsche’s demon, after all, comes to us when we are all alone, his question can be heard only in one’s “loneliest loneliness,” and therefore the answer cannot be given by consensus or on behalf of some impersonal institutions. It is, indeed, the most personal of answers — the one that always determines an individual choice. Of course you can choose anything you want, to raise children or get married, but don’t pretend to do it because these things have some sort of intrinsic value — they don’t. Do it solely because you chose them and are willing to own up to them. In the story of our lives, these choices are ours and ours alone, and this is what gives things, all things, value. Only when one realizes this is he or she prepared to face the eternal recurrence, the entire cycle, without the risk of being crushed. Only then is one able to say with Yeats, “[A]nd yet again,” and truly mean it. ~John J. Kaag

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a beautiful stranger walking by as i was taking pics of this mural in progress by gabriel dumani and hein. she stopped, smiled, posed, and then walked on without uttering a word. 

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i’d like to help this couple out, but i can’t be trusted with homemade liquor that i know nothing about.
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purple jeans made my day.

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street vendor leaning against his kiosk
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that mustache makes me uncomfortable. i’m sure he’s a nice guy, but…

 

Perhaps the hardest part of the eternal return is to own up to the tortures that we create for ourselves and those we create for others. Owning up: to recollect, to regret, to be responsible, ultimately to forgive and love. ~Kaag

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ticos like their subway sandwiches.

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every day is training day and don’t you forget it. 

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a tico walking by a crowd of tourists taking pictures of pigeons. 

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There is no insurmountable solitude. All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song — but in this dance or in this song there are fulfilled the most ancient rites of our conscience in the awareness of being human and of believing in a common destiny. ~Pablo Neruda

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this guy is selling avocados illegally. i wouldn’t have known that had he not frantically blown past me with his avocado crate when two cops pulled up at the light. this pic was taken once he returned to his spot and the cops were out of sight. looking right at me. his eyes kinda saying “yeah, this is illegal. so what. buy some.”

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april 2019. San Jose, Costa Rica.

SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA GRAFFITI: SOUN

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THERE ARE SO MANY PROLIFIC GRAFFITI WRITERS IN SAN JOSE; THEIR PIECES ARE EVERYWHERE! HERE ARE 10 PIECES FROM SOUN.

feb-apr2019. San Jose, Costa rica. 

SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA GRAFFITI: DESK Pt. 1

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THERE ARE SO MANY PROLIFIC GRAFFITI WRITERS IN SAN JOSE; THEIR PIECES ARE EVERYWHERE! HERE ARE 10 PIECES FROM DESK. TO SEE MORE OF THIS ARTIST’S WORK: https://www.instagram.com/desk_modest/

feb-apr2019. san jose, costa rica. 

SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA GRAFFITI: NEGUS

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THERE ARE SO MANY PROLIFIC GRAFFITI WRITERS IN SAN JOSE; THEIR PIECES ARE EVERYWHERE! HERE ARE 10 PIECES FROM NEGUS. TO SEE MORE OF THIS ARTIST’S WORK https://www.instagram.com/negus_artevida/
FEB-APR2019. SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA. 

SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA GRAFFITI: NEUR Pt. 1

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THERE ARE SO MANY PROLIFIC GRAFFITI WRITERS IN SAN JOSE; THEIR PIECES ARE EVERYWHERE! HERE ARE 10 PIECES FROM NEUR. TO SEE MORE OF THIS ARTIST’S WORK: https://www.instagram.com/n32lt/
feb-apr2019. san jose, costa rica. 

SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA: WE WILL BECOME SILHOUETTES (the postal service, chet faker, alt-j)

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you seem so out of context in this gaudy apartment complex. a stranger with no door key explaining that i’m just visiting. and i am finally seeing why i was the one worth leaving. 
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and i have to speculate that god himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay.
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smeared black ink. your palms are sweaty. and i’m barely listening to last demands. i’m staring at the asphalt wondering what’s buried underneath where i am.
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last week i had the strangest dream where everything was just as it seemed
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don’t wake me. i plan on sleeping in. 
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i feel i must interject here. you’re getting carried away feeling sorry for yourself. with these revisions and gaps in history. so let me help you remember. i’ve made charts and graphs that should finally make it clear. i’ve prepared a lecture on why i have to leave. 
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calm down, release your cares.
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and i want life in every word to the extent that it’s absurd.
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and i’m screaming at the top of my lungs pretending that the echoes belong to someone, someone i used to know. 
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i wanted to walk through the empty streets and feel something constant under my feet.
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…until our shells simply cannot hold all our insides in, and that’s when we’ll explode.
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i’ll be the fire escape that’s bolted to the ancient brick where you will sit and contemplate your day.
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i’ll be the waterwings that save you if you start drowning.
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i’ll be the phonograph that plays your favorite albums back as you’re lying there drifting off to sleep. 
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i’ll be your winter coat buttoned and zipped straight to the throat with the collar up so you won’t catch a cold.
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i want to take you far from the cynics in this town.
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we’ll cut our bodies free from the tethers of this scene. 
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start a brand new colony where everything will change. we’ll give ourselves new names (identities erased.)
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now i’m a novel made resourceful. i start a chain with my thought. 
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cold pain. i cannot sustain it. that’s what i’m thinking, not what i’m drinking. 
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these thoughts are pervasive. it’s not a statement but peace can be evasive. 
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melt my happiness. some kind of fucked up mess.  
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i need a bit of coffee and the warm sun. and the dusty ideas only half spun. 
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i’m not the reason you’re looking for redemption.
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is it absurd for me to hurt when everything else is fading? 
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i’m walking through each smile. 
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she may contain the urge to run away but hold her down with soggy clothes and breeze blocks
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do you know where the wild things go? 
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she’s morphine, queen of my vaccine. 
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she makes the sound, the sound the sea makes, to calm me down. 
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we can’t lose touch, but we can let go. 
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the nights of all my youth pressed into one glass of water. 
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painless with immense distance. 
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painless with a great closeness. 
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legions upon legions of craftsmen handmade my feelings. 

mar2019. San Jose, Costa Rica. 

SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA: BLURRYFACE (21 PILOTS, Pt. 3)

THE SOUNDTRACK TO MY THREE MONTHS OF LIVING IN COSTA RICA HAS BEEN ALMOST EXCLUSIVELY, THE 4 TWENTY ONE PILOTS’ ALBUMS: SELF-TITLED, VESSEL, BLURRYFACE, AND TRENCH. THIS UPCOMING 4-PART PHOTO SERIES WILL FEATURE CAPTIONS WITH THEIR LYRICS DESCRIBING AN EVEN DEEPER CONTEXTUALIZATION OF MY OVERALL PURE VIDA EXPERIENCE.
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can you save my heavy dirty soul?
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wish we could turn back time, to the good old days.
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yeah, i think about the end way too much.
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i’ve been thinking too much. help me. 
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but i’m not good with directions and i hide behind my mouth. i’m a pro at imperfections and i’m best friends with my doubt. 
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release me from the present. i’m obsessing all these questions.
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my shadow tilts its head at me.
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you are out of my mind. you aren’t seeing my side.
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i’m out of my mind. i’m not seeing things right. 
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i’m a goner. somebody catch my breath. i wanna be known by you. 

 

19apr19. San Jose, Costa Rica.

SAN JOSE, COSTA RICA: JORGE JIMÉNEZ DEREDIA SCULPTURES (the cure)

Jiménez Deredia is an internationally acclaimed Costa Rican sculptor, whose works are displayed throughout the San Jose city center for an extended period of time this year. Here are some images I’ve collected over the past couple of months. I listened to various The Cure albums while I created this post, so lyrics from the “Disintegration” album and others, are used to provide the captions. It’s a “mood thing.”

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sometimes you make me feel like i’m living at the edge of the world.
“it’s just the way i smile,” you said.

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there was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more
than to feel you deep in my heart.
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always the need to feel again the real belief of something more than mockery.
if only i could fill my heart with love.
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you make me feel like i am free again.
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i never said i would stay to the end.
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hopelessly drift in the eyes of the ghost again.
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she used to just stand there and stare and roll her eyes right up to heaven.
and make like I just wasn’t there.
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she used to just stand there and smile and her eyes would go all sort of far away.
and stay like that for quite a while.
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yesterday i got so old, i felt like i could die.
yesterday i got so old, it made me want to cry.
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and you’re beautifulyou glow inside my head.
you hold me hypnotizedi’m mesmerized.
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you, soft and only, you lost and lonely.
you, strange as angels dancing in the deepest oceans.
twisting in the wateryou’re just like a dream.
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if it can’t be like before i’ve got to let it end. 
i don’t want what i was, i had a change of head.
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if it can’t be like it was, i’ve got to let it rest. 
i don’t want what i did, i had a change of tense.
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crying for the death of your heartyou were stone white.
so delicate.
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i’m lost in a forest all alone.
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and you finally found all your courage to let it all go.