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My name is Finn and I am twenty years old.

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All works are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.



September 20th
4 notes
11:19 pm

I’m on hiatus for the foreseeable future. Contact me at finnbutler@live.co.uk. 

September 20th
4 notes
11:28 am
Haruki Murakami's illustrated The Strange Library – exclusive preview

I cannot express how excited I am… this book looks like something I’m going to treasure for the rest of my life. 

September 14th
4 notes
6:47 pm
Anonymous: Love your work, Finn. Do you have any poems, or know of any, for when you fancy someone, and you don't know how to/are scared to tell them? x

I can’t think of any right now, sorry! My solution has always been to get drunk and profess my love for them via a shared obsession for some writer or another - I do not recommend this. 

September 9th
34,628 notes
3:47 pm

September 8th
924 notes
9:32 pm

popchartlab:

This visual guide to musical notation charts the symbols and ideograms of classical sheet music, featuring over 100 hand-illustrated musical marks arranged by type and function.

20% off for 24 hours only!

(via kujmous)

September 3rd
1,755 notes
9:06 pm

antoinecordet:


Antoine Cordet
MOTHERFUCKER YOU DECIDE; Acrylic on linen

antoinecordet:

Antoine Cordet

MOTHERFUCKER YOU DECIDE; Acrylic on linen

(via ill-gresi)

September 3rd
2 notes
12:53 pm
Anonymous: I think I might have said this before but your writing is inCREDIBLE! I just read your latest post and it actually blew me away.. I hope that I can write as well as you one day xx

really? it means a lot to hear this. I feel like I have lost something in my writing recently, as if nothing I write is genuine even when I put everything I feel into it. maybe I have just become more self-critical. anyway, thank you, sweet pea. xx

September 3rd
44 notes
10:00 am

Maybe in another life. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself recently, about so many things. In another life I am far across the country, halfway through a degree in modern languages. In another I’m still working at the bookshop, and you and I never met. Another life ended years ago when I just couldn’t take it anymore. And in this one, well, here I am: I’m doing whatever I’m doing, and I think I’m happy, but I know that will change soon, too. In one of these lives I believe we have a happy ending. That’s the only thing that gives me comfort sometimes, when I’m writing poems you’ll never read and having imaginary conversations with you in my head. In another life you stay my best friend until I die. I wonder what kind of person that makes me. 

I know this is something that’s been written about countless times before, but as we know, there’s a big difference between reading about something and really living it. Every time I think about this it’s a brand new realisation: how a single, seemingly tiny decision can change your life forever. But I can’t believe that the other outcomes vanish entirely. We continue to live what might have been in our minds and dreams, and, I believe, somewhere across the universe.

Here, where I feel the wind and damp against my skin, you walk away. Maybe in another life. 

September 2nd
262 notes
4:24 pm

And yet, in a time where the mainstream seems to continually question the power and validity of art, and especially of poetry, its need, its purpose, in a generation obsessed with appearances, of status updates and smiling selfies bathed (corrected?) in the golden light of filters, in which it has become more and more difficult for us to say aloud, to one another: I am hurt. I am scared. What happens now?, the poem, like the fire escape, as feeble and thin as it is, has become my most concentrated architecture of resistance. A place where I can be as honest as I need to—because the fire has already begun in my home, swallowing my most valuable possessions—and even my loved ones. My uncle is gone. I will never know exactly why. But I still have my body and with it these words, hammered into a structure just wide enough to hold the weight of my living. I want to use it to talk about my obsessions and fears, my odd and idiosyncratic joys. I want to leave the party through the window and find my uncle standing on a piece of iron shaped into visible desperation, which must also be (how can it not?) the beginning of visible hope. I want to stay there until the building burns down. I want to love more than death can harm. And I want to tell you this often: That despite being so human and so terrified, here, standing on this unfinished staircase to nowhere and everywhere, surrounded by the cold and starless night—we can live. And we will.

The Weight Of Our Living: On Hope, Fire Escapes, and Visible Desperation by Ocean Vuong (via letters-to-nobody)

(via letters-to-nobody)

September 2nd
114 notes
11:47 am
September 2nd
114 notes
Haruki Murakami to publish "The Strange Library" in English on December 2nd

murakamistuff:

There will be a new Murakami release on December 2nd 2014: An illustrated version his short story The Strange Library. We have previously posted about this book as The Mysterious Library, and these postings collected can be found here: Click.

At this time it is unclear whether the illustrations used in the book are the ones from the original Japanese release by Maki Sasaki or new illustrations by German Kat Menschik who’s been working with Murakami for some years now.

!!!!!

s.t.