Throwing Down Flowers

"You can’t call the unbeliever an infidel If he’s been the latest victim of Love."

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 03:42:36 -0800

“You can’t call the unbeliever an infidel
If he’s been the latest victim of Love.”

- Rumi

(photo via sincerely, katrina)As nearly as possible in the...

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 00:37:00 -0800

(photo via sincerely, katrina)

As nearly as possible in the spirit of Matthew Salinger, age one, urging a luncheon companion to accept a cool lima bean, I urge my editor, mentor, and (heaven help him) closest friend, William Shawn, genius domus of The New Yorker, lover of the long shot, protector of the unprolific, defender of the hopelessly flamboyant, most unreasonably modest of born great artist-editors, to accept this pretty skimpy-looking book.

fuckyeahtattoos: (via thestrawberryblonderamblings)

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 16:10:38 -0800

fuckyeahtattoos:

(via thestrawberryblonderamblings)

from "As I Walked Out One Evening"

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 05:49:48 -0800

O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

“O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbor
With all your crooked heart.

W.H. Auden

My Books My Books (which do not know that I exist)Are as much a...

Wed, 02 Dec 2009 14:31:00 -0800

My Books

My Books (which do not know that I exist)
Are as much a part of me as this visage
With its grey hair at the temples and grey eyes
That I look for vainly in glass surfaces
And wonderingly run my curved hand over.
And not without some logical bitterness
It occurs to me that the essential words
That most express me are not in my own writings
But in those books that don’t know who I am.
Better that way. The voices of the dead
Will utter me forever.

Jorge Luis Borges

(via printedandbound)

Ad agency Wieden + Kennedy’s motto done in clear thumb tacks....

Tue, 01 Dec 2009 18:44:00 -0800

Ad agency Wieden + Kennedy’s motto done in clear thumb tacks.

Wieden + Kennedy 12, an experimental advertising school run by Portland ad agency W+K, is responsible for buying out all available clear push pins on the west coast of the US. Over 100,000 thumbtacks were used over 351 hours to create a wall mural that spells out Fail Harder, a message that underlines the importance of failure during the creative process.

(via flickr)

(the process on youtube)

ljm: missrose: iamafungirl: hipsterdiet: (via walpaper:liezlwashere)

"I’m not interested in writing short stories. Anything that doesn’t take years of your life and drive..."

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 23:04:22 -0800

“I’m not interested in writing short stories. Anything that doesn’t take years of your life and drive you to suicide hardly seems worth doing.”

- Cormac McCarthy

http://www.alecsloth.comAndy Goldsworthy, Ithaca, NY 2004

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 00:18:58 -0800

http://www.alecsloth.com
Andy Goldsworthy, Ithaca, NY 2004

declasse: http://www.alecsoth.comEggleston in his music room,...

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 00:15:10 -0800

declasse:

http://www.alecsoth.com
Eggleston in his music room, Memphis, Tennessee 2002

A sad hurrah | The Guardian, July 2000

Fri, 27 Nov 2009 23:34:00 -0800

A sad hurrah | The Guardian, July 2000:

O’Connell tells me a story about Skin that somehow sums up [Sarah Kane]. The film is about a black woman who kidnaps a leery racist abuser and beats him into an adoring, submissive love. Ewan Bremner played the man, Marcia Rose the woman. The two had never met each other before Skin. They fell in love while making the film, and now have a child together.

(via davidhorvitz)

Fri, 27 Nov 2009 20:49:47 -0800

(via davidhorvitz)

"Being embodied in flesh that decomposes and that is inscribed with all manner of cultural values not..."

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 18:30:10 -0800

“Being embodied in flesh that decomposes and that is inscribed with all manner of cultural values not of your choosing is also a state of emergency.”

- Lara Glenum (via Farren and Jessalyn)

"He wanted to find someone ‘to challenge me, to serve as a goad, an instigator, a stirrer of..."

Wed, 25 Nov 2009 00:16:03 -0800

“He wanted to find someone ‘to challenge me, to serve as a goad, an instigator, a stirrer of the pot,’ and he found that in his wife, who, he says, ‘has dragged, nudged, coaxed, led, stirred, embroiled, mocked, seduced, finagled, or carried me into every last instance of delight or sorrow, every debacle, every success, every brilliant call, and every terrible mistake, that I have known or made.’”

- from the New York Times’ review of Michael Chabon’s Manhood for Amateurs by Michiko Kakutani

Photo

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 23:13:40 -0800

"Writing is a form of therapy. Sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint..."

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 18:40:07 -0800

“Writing is a form of therapy. Sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic fear which is inherent in the human situation.”

- Graham Greene (via psychotherapy)

‘The Flowers,’ Regina SpektorThings I have loved...

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 21:49:24 -0800

‘The Flowers,’ Regina Spektor

Things I have loved I’m allowed to keep
I’ll never know if I go to sleep

travellinglight: First photograph exposed by phosphorescent...

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 20:57:14 -0800

travellinglight:

First photograph exposed by phosphorescent light, taken of Tesla in his laboratory

(via davidhorvitz)

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 21:18:38 -0800

(via davidhorvitz)

Meditation at Lagunitas

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 02:10:44 -0800

All the new thinking is about loss.
In this it resembles all the old thinking.
The idea, for example, that each particular erases
the luminous clarity of a general idea. That the clown-
faced woodpecker probing the dead sculpted trunk
of that black birch is, by his presence,
some tragic falling off from a first world
of undivided light. Or the other notion that,
because there is in this world no one thing
to which the bramble of blackberry corresponds,
a word is elegy to what it signifies.
We talked about it late last night and in the voice
of my friend, there was a thin wire of grief, a tone
almost querulous. After awhile I understood that,
talking this way, everything dissolves: justice,
pine, hair, woman, you and I. There was a woman
I made love to and I remembered how, holding
her small shoulders in my hands sometimes,
I felt a violent wonder at her presence
like a thirst for salt, for my childhood river
with its island willows, silly music from the pleasure boat,
muddy places where we caught the little orange-silver fish
called pumpkinseed. It hardly had to do with her.
Long, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances. I must have been the same to her.
But I remember so much, the way her hands dismantled bread,
the thing her father said that hurt her, what
she dreamed. There are moments when the body is as numinous
as words, days that are the good flesh continuing.
Such tenderness, those afternoons and evenings,
saying blackberry, blackberry, blackberry.

Robert Hass

align: iaminlikewithmybike:nevver:I think I can make it.

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 00:04:32 -0800

align:

iaminlikewithmybike:nevver:I think I can make it.