May summer last a hundred years.
My father slapped my thighs with a variety of meats until I began to cry and sulked in the corner. I later became a musician
Sometimes I stand in store windows and pretend to be a mannequin. People are like 'hey, that mannequin looks alot like thom yorke' Then I start to sing The Gloaming and lurch toward them and they run off horrified.
I've been working hard on a new song, it's titled "Frozen Piggy Pudding". It's about how the government is full of pigs who eat pudding all day. Oh look a frisbee, allo' govna.
When I was born, my mother didn't know what to name me. Eventually she named me after Thom Yorke.
My dad spent his whole life getting into fights for telling what he believed to be the truth. Basically it comes from my dad-and he's screaming right-wing, so there you are.
The society, is, a dishwasher, where all the water, is, dead chipmunk blood. God I'm brilliant.
She watches him as a cat would watch a mouse.
When I speak of the aspiration towards the beautiful, of the ideal as the ultimate aim of art, which grows from a yearning for that ideal, I am not for a moment suggesting that art should shun the 'dirt' of the world. On the contrary! the artistic image is always a metonym, where one thing is substituted for another, the smaller for the greater. To tell of what is living, the artist uses something dead; to speak of the infinite, he shows the finite. Substitution. . . the infinite cannot be made into matter, but it is possible to create an illusion of the infinite: the image.
People have to live by rules in the world. Why do we pretend in school that they don't?
He had a come-and-get-me-baby-I'm-pure-trouble-and-you're-gonna-love-it kind of attitude.