i took that last september in coney island. “people who don’t play with their food have no imagination” said marie, watching me make a paste out of peanut butter and left over tofu a couple nights ago.thursday night we walked the brooklyn bridge twice. got my favorite strawberry icecream on the other end. we walked back through the financial district and china town and little italy. in china town we saw lots of rats scurrying by us. i’ve been feeling like gravity has been working in reverse: it is uplifting me, floating me, hovering me upwards.
Archive for October, 2010
i like this guy who always tastes of coffee (http://www.myspace.com/music/14540793/songs/51223289) . found this pic online and thought “what..?”but at the same time it made sense. since we’re on the subject of fast-food, an anne collinge photo: so i have this jim jarmusch (you know, one of my fave directors) quote i wanna read you: “nothing is original. steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration. devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. if you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. and don’t bother concealing your thievery-celebrate it if you feel like it. it any case, always remember what jean-luc godard said: ‘it’s not where you take things from-it’s where you take them to'”. i think that encapsualtes this blog.i wanna go on a road trip, inspired by these photos of steven tamiesie.
and then around quarter to three in the morning we sat on a barber-shop stoop and i was looking at the shadows made by the fire escapes in front of us. ok so i’m really really into arno rafael minkinnen: really really sensational!i miss doing handstands in pools when i was 10
cuz autumn is here! and it won’t last long.jon estwards. just what i like on a weekend. so a friend at a kickback told me an amusing story: him and his friend won the 2nd prize in a contest: a year’s supply of smucker’s uncrustables. he said they had so many piling up in the fridge and freezer that they had to eat at least 3 a day as to not have an ungodly amount of surplus uncrustables. they ate them like grapes, scarfing each one as if it were a dainty snack.
baldessari photograph.i’m sick of seeing emaciated nyc deviants (hipsters? ironic beatniks?) looking like they’re about to burst into tears as they walk towards nyu. cheer the fuck up. not only does life not suck that much, but it’s not all about you. go drink your macchiato and smoke your camels in your alphabet city flat your parents are paying for.
I thought this was genius: “What makes humans human is precisely that hey do not know the future. That is why they do the fateful and amusing things they do: who can say how anything will turn out?”- lorrie moore. totally my philosophy.
ok before i start, jodie foster in taxi driver is 70s love. dad’s here. which means americana brunch places, walks through my favorite hoods (east village, nolita, china town, and my washington square), belgian duck salads, chinese film festivals, and korean bbq! yum! oh and amazing tapas bars. today we strolled through lex/murray hill area up to the met. i was awed by the kublai khan exhibit. during the yuan dynasty there was this incredible convergence of religion and art and theater, and i got to see the product of this. the artwork -tapestries, calligraphy, wood and ceramic work- showed sooo much will power, patience, talent, and attention and love for meticulous detail. i admire that so much. after, we went to the bamboo roof structure and looked at the skyline and central park below, gorgeous. then we walked around the park and i noticed the yellow glow in the grass and children’s faces. those little puffs of white in the magnificent blue sky! warm sun touching my freckled face.
ok im currently obsessed with this, “my little dead dick,” the brain child of Patrick Tsai and Madi Ju, who built a photography project recording their relationship. it ended when they ended. there are honestly too many pictures i want to put up of theirs… but quick question. why have artisans disappeared? people don’t MAKE stuff or DO things anymore. i want to learn to make my own clothes, harvest my food, pick my fruit and make my cheese, build furniture. we will no longer be commodities! i’ll live an a self-sufficient commune in vermont! ok, one more and then i’ll stop i swear
a female humpback whale traveled more than 6,000 miles, from Brazil to Madagascar, breaking the (known) record for longest mammalian migration. martin schmidt. so i discovered (through a fellow photography aficionado) this photographer: jim goldberg.
he creates collages, including text with his photographs often written by his subjects. he is part of the social aims movement in photography, using a straight-forward, cinema verite approach, based on a fundamentally narrative understanding of photography. “Goldberg’s empathy and the uniqueness of the subjects emerge in his works, forming a context within which the viewer may integrate the unthinkable into the concept of self. Thus diffused, this terrifying other is restored as a universal.” (Art Forum, Summer 1987)
“In your dorm you meet many nice people. Some are
smarter than you. And some, you notice, are dumber than you. You will continue,
unfortunately, to view the world in exactly these terms for the rest of your life.” -lorrie moore
agustin david photo. matt w. more. this is precious: . yesterday in washington square park there was a man with a sign that said ‘free sex and relationship advice.’ i talked to him for 40 minutes. i feel more well-rounded and natural and better; and like there’s absolutely nothing wrong with my spontaneity and addict of intrigue and vulnerability.edmund dulac
rekindled flame beautiful, beautiful lyrics.my favorite part:
Well you’re Oscar Wilde short stories in my bookcaseYou’re positively 4th street, isolated in my dreamsYou’re the word in the dictionary that I can’t spellCan’t describeCan’t put in a sentence but use all the timeYour old pair of trousersLook better on meThe boots of Spanish leather at the bottom of the seaWell I wish we were animalsFree of love’s gamesI wish we were snails with really big shellsI wish I was a lion I’d be king of the wildI’d command all the beasts and carry you when you’re tiredI’m the elephant in the circus Oh, you’re my trainerYou’d never let me go but if you did I would stay hereIn love there is freedomBut it must be returnedThere must sacrificeLove must be learned.i am no longer going to settle for less