Wednesday, March 31, 2010



sally cruikshank animation

Tuesday, March 30, 2010



herb&dorothy

Monday, March 29, 2010

Sunday, March 28, 2010

spread knowledge


joaquin phoenix for peta.

olivia bee

olivia bee

shot by 15 year old olivia bee from portland.
you should definitely check out her work here.

wisdomtooth

Friday, March 26, 2010

Thursday, March 25, 2010


andrei tarkovsky

andrei tarkovsky
via maja

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

please don't go



appropriate jam.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

i'm saving this for real

this should be my life.
via emma cooper

Friday, March 19, 2010

gil


this man is amazing.
so is the video. watch all the way through for haunting spoken word.
emma cooper

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

samma golden ruler necklace
SAMMA
GOLD RULER NECKLACE
arielle de pinto square necklace
ARIELLE DE PINTO
SQUARE NECKLACE

BOTH VIA STAND UP COMEDY

Monday, March 15, 2010

31510

This is going to turn into a scene where the room swirls around a solitary motionless figure, lights glinting and spinning, blurred faces laughing maniacally. I can see it, her future, wasted stumbling feet no longer able to walk that narrow line beside a road filled with broken glass. She falls, her knees hitting the pavement followed by the side of her face, shards once so tiny now looming large then piercing skin in a thousand exquisite cuts. She stands, inexplicably whole, the streetlight refracting yellow rays from her embellished form. Somehow rising victorious, resilient, undaunted, she is beautiful beyond belief. From then on, she haunts midnight streets a beacon, a glittering goddess, untouchable. Nocturnal by necessity, she must avoid the rays of light that burn when reflected from her mirrored coating. At night, now, she reigns- the glass queen- solitary, immortal, doomed to endless beauty and incessant pain.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

31410

in a few weeks, i can taste it so soon
sunflakes landing on my tongue
like as many wishes realized
Photobucket
guy bourdin
Photobucket
kaiser reads.
fashion squad
prehistoric

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Photobucket
Marina Abramović
Rhythm 5
1974

Friday, March 5, 2010

kevin

Photobucket

via alyssa.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

i long to breath clean air again.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

3.2.10

Franklin sat, motionless, staring out the frosted window at the gathering crystalline drifts.

No two the same.

Do you need something?

His caretaker, perpetually too close at hand, was instantly at his side. Apparently hed spoken out loud, a mumbled whisper, his vocal cords diminished with lack of use. He shook his head, eyes trained away from her cheerfully strained expression. He appreciated her attention to detail; she brought his tea just as he liked, piping hot with honey, and always right before he realized he wanted it. Still, she was too bent on improving his mood, coaxing him to speak, bringing him distractions when all he wanted was to be alone.

She retreated reluctantly, presumably to prepare his afternoon meal, and he tried halfheartedly to remember her name. Sarah? Sophie? After years of rotating nurses, each vaguely less feminine than the last, he hardly cared to recall specifics.

It used to be so different; Franklins unstoppable longing to experience every woman alive led him through many short-lived but fiery affairs. He was blessed with endless curiosity and attention to detail which endeared him to so many but just as quickly caused him to lose interest and move on to the next. He craved variety, excited by each new smile and winking lash, amazingly new yet familiar. That feeling, just like a childs joy with fresh fallen snow, diminished with age and the realization that by winters end pollution is inescapable.

A single large flake landed on the sill outside and he watched it melt, losing shape, becoming one with the rest.

Monday, March 1, 2010

3.1.10

THE WORLD HAS BEEN BLURRED FOR A WHILE NOW, GOING ON TWO YEARS. THIS STARTED AS A HAZE OVER MY EYES, THEN CONSTANT TRANSPARENCY OBSCURRING MY VISION, WHICH HAS TRANSITIONED INTO AN COMPLETE LACK OF VISUAL CLARITY.

HOW MANY WAYS CAN IT BE SAID? I HAVE SO MUCH TIME TO THINK NOW THAT I CAN'T SEE.

YOU'D ASSUME, SURE, I'D BE LONGING FOR CRYSTAL VISION, BUT I'VE SURPASSED THAT DESIRE. FINALLY ALL OF MY THOUGHTS ARE TRAINED IN A SINGLE DIRECTION, MOVING TOWARDS A COMMON GOAL, RATHER THAN SCATTERED BY EVERY NEW OBJECT THAT ENTERS MY SIGHT. I NO LONGER NEED HUMAN INTERACTION, EITHER. I AM MUCH MORE AT PEACE INSIDE MYSELF. IT'S SAFE. IT'S KNOWN.

I TRACE AND RETRACE THE SAME STEPS I WALKED BEFORE. FIFTY-SIX STEPS TO THE CORNER. TWO HUNDRED TWENTY THREE TO THE BUS STOP, WHICH IS JUST AHEAD OF ME NOW. I USED TO COUNT. NOW, EVERY PIECE OF THE OUTSIDE WORLD INFORMS MY WHEREABOUTS. I CAN SMELL THE STREET PERFORMER TO MY LEFT, HIS SNOWBOUND PIZZA PARLOUR STAGE ABANDONED WITH THE BUDDING TREES. AS I PASS, HE HUMS THE BEGINNING STRAINS OF "WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD" AND THOUGH THE BRIGHT BLESSED DAYS ARE DARKENED FOREVER, I HAVE TO AGREE.