Friends

♥ Together these features lend the vague impression of a classical temple, and perhaps Acropolis of Athens were it not for the fact that the building is so caked in filth (soot, bird excrement, vehicle exhaust, industrial grime) that its neglect gives it away for what it is: an ordinary public-service building. Abused, ugly, useful.

♥ ...The bell tower, and there's nothing exceptional in this, is tall and thin. The baptistry, and this is unexceptional news too, is short and fat. I think of Father and Mother. I think of bell tower and the baptistry.

The bell tower looks down and loves the squat baptistry, the baptistry looks up and loves the beanpole tower. Now let me cast these buildings in the forthcoming event. Let me label the bell tower Linas-father, for if he was a building rather than a person he would indeed have been a tall, gangly type of structure. And let me label the baptistry Dallia-mother, for were she to be built out of limestone, she too would be only one storey in height, and she too would spread herself out in a horizontal fashion. So now, lower the light of day into a more romantic atmosphere, turn on the moon and see the beginnings of us, of Alva and Irva. Hear a faint rumbling as the bell tower pulls himself from his foundation in Cathedral Square, and lays himself down on top of the baptistry. And as the city vibrates with this act of love, to the happy groans of the bell tower and the baptistry: we begin. That's how it should have been marked, not by a little panting from two adolescents on the top entrance step of a building, but by the loud ecstatic bellowing of great architecture as it bangs away, building against building.

♥ Some men love power, some men love women, some men love boys, some men love cars, some men love firearms, some men love matchstick buildings; well, Father was one of those men who love stamps, a small breed admittedly but a breed nevertheless.

♥ This was true - soon Father would have as much time as he desired to linger over each new stamp as he went about the city, from house to house. But those stamps, Father would protest, had been franked; they were no longer the pure virgin stamps that could be found at the post office counters. Oh, he would sigh, there was something magical about those unused stamps arranged neatly in blocks, still with their serrated edges untorn and their glue unlicked. They were the nearest thing, he believed, to innocence.

♥ After a week of aching limbs father brought a wooden stool with him which ever after lived side by side with Mother's plastic chair in the twelfth counter booth. Perhaps that plastic chair and that wooden stool were slowly falling in love too - they seemed somehow to belong to each other. Perhaps this abandoned child and this half-orphan were instinctively drawn together by a profound yearning for absent people. Perhaps each immediately felt the want that surrounded the other, and instantly closed ranks for desperation for a whole.

♥ How the people loved the matchstick cathedral - more eager, it would seem, to relinquish their money if it might help to keep the matchstick model in good order, than to aid the vast and echoey religious warehouse itself. This is not uncommon; miniature things move people.

~~Alva & Irva by Edward Carey.

I hope it's ok to post the artwork contest we're having on our blog. Chrononaut Mercantile, LLC. will be conducting a contest for our airship or time-travelling vessel design to be used on the blog, Chrononought.com. Please check it out, and let your friends know if you think it would be right up their alley!

The Chrononought

Experimental SX-70 material, that shortly after taking the photo drifts through different colour schemes before it finally turns to blackness after 24 hours. This process can get stopped at any given moment by opening the picture. See the detailed manual here:

советую до 1го января посетить все заведения на Конюшенной пл., так как им пришёл трындец

Фрагмент свежего концертного видеоряда группы DEVO.
Отрадно, что парни до сих пор держатся в седле.

"There are never enough seats on the last train out of the station..."

- Hunter S. Thompson, Songs of the Doomed

Этот чувачок страсть какой хорошенький. Позиционирует себя как актер, режиссер, фотограф, художник. Не знаю, не знаю. Снимается в каком-то хламе, остального не видела. Но он мне так нравится!

А еще у него сыночек вот от этой крошки

По моему, он может считать что жизнь удалась

I've been lurking for a long time, writing down all these quotes, and I thought I'd share some [finally].


"When you say words a lot, they don't mean anything. Or maybe they don't mean anything anyway...and we just think they do."
- Sandman: Brief Lives, Neil Gaiman

"'Tell him that we have fucking reprogrammed reality. Tell him that language is a virus and that religion is an operating system and that prayers are just so much fucking spam. Tell him that or I'll fucking kill you,' said the young man mildly, from the smoke."
- American Gods, Neil Gaiman

"One day, Buckley came home from the second grade with a story he'd written: 'Once upon a time there was a kid named Billy. He liked to explore. He saw a hole and went inside but he never came out. The End.'"
- The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold

Strombecker's 1/91 scale Convair Manned Nuclear Interplanetary Vehicle plastic model kit, 1959

http://www.ninfinger.org/models/space_models.html

Mars Expeditions:
http://www.astronautix.com/craftfam/martions.htm

Что-то недоброе таится в мужчинах, избегающих вина, игр, общества прелестных женщин, застольной беседы. Такие люди или тяжело больны или втайне ненавидят окружающих.
                                                                                                                                                 М. Булгаков                                         

спс kulchitska

Сегодня я:
а) впервые самостоятельно сварил борщ (честно, вкууусный)
б) помог другу купить ноутбук
в) разработал и успешно внедрил систему утепления чердачных помещений стекловолокном 
г) только что в ванной УБИЛ ШВАБРОЙ МЫШЬ, терроризировавшую нас последние пару недель

Boomkat’s “14 Tracks” tribute to DJ International

I’d buy this if I didn’t already have almost all these tracks either on vinyl, CD or digital. A few years after House blew up in Chicago it filtered westward into Iowa City, and the Jack tracks were mind-blowing. To quote myself from many years ago, “House music is 5000 years of dance music collapsed down to the booty-bumping eigenvectors.”

Originally published at Do My Eyes Look Scary?. You can comment here or there.

темы)

More 1990s NYC Graffiti: Part 9...

В Львові розпочало свою трансляцію одне з самих "%?%;№* радіо нашої країни Kiss FM.