Protection

Conversation Galante

I OBSERVE: “Our sentimental friend the moon!
Or possibly (fantastic, I confess)
It may be Prester John’s balloon
Or an old battered lantern hung aloft
To light poor travellers to their distress.”
She then: “How you digress!”

And I then: “Someone frames upon the keys
That exquisite nocturne, with which we explain
The night and moonshine; music which we seize
To body forth our own vacuity.”
She then: “Does this refer to me?”
“Oh no, it is I who am inane.”

“You, madam, are the eternal humorist,
The eternal enemy of the absolute,
Giving our vagrant moods the slightest twist!
With your air indifferent and imperious
At a stroke our mad poetics to confute—”
And—“Are we then so serious?”

TS Eliot 

Too Much

Too much caffeine, too many words and joy taken from watching odd .gifs whilst listening to music.

.gifs from and from

"Went to dinner with former intern Rhombonica tonight. She's in New Orleans now just like me. Except her situation is more permanent and mine is more thief in the night. We hid out in a photo booth and also there was a cat there who sat at the bar."

Photo by Ben LeRoy

Storm in the Mountains by 

Albert Bierstadt (1830 - 1902)

 

My mom's favorite artist. Two framed prints in the house full of nature's drama and light.

Tickle Tim

The Talking Pickle

2011 AD—On May 21st, Judgment Day will begin and the rapture (the taking up into heaven of God’s elect people) will occur at the end of the 23-year great tribulation. On October 21st, the world will be destroyed by fire (7000 years from the flood; 13,023 years from creation)


The latest Biblical interpretation from EBible Fellowship.

So, what do you do? Behave in a manner befitting a terrified sinner? Or sink into sin to your neck and wait for the Hell Maw to open?

From

In Between

This Love

Craig Armstrong featuring Liz Fraser of the Cocteau Twins (see this you are as enchanted with her)

Scene in NYC

Taken at BEA

More Eagles Than You Can Shake A Fish Head At

From

"Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Here’s Tom with the Weather."

Bill Hicks

Stjepan Hauser and Luka Sulic - Smooth Criminal

“On the night Frank Sinatra won his Oscar, Jerry Lewis tackled him backstage and yelled out, “I’m so proud of you, I’m going to kiss you on the mouth!” Sinatra said, “No, no, don’t kiss me on the mouth!” This moment was caught by a nearby photographer.

-Who the Hell’s in It, Peter Bogdanovich

From

Le Book

My Heroes

These people are doing something for themselves, their children, their country and the world by not giving up under extreme duress. These photos from the Guardian are my favorite.

A baby joins the demonstrations in Tahrir Square. Photo

Yannis Behrakis/Reuters

Anti-government protesters jog along a street as part of their daily exercises after spending the night in front of the Egyptian parliament. Photo: Emilio Morenatti/AP

Newly-wed anti-government protesters join the demonstration in Tahrir Square Photo: Dylan Martinez/Reuters

I Love This Logan

Horsetail Firefall- Yosemite National Park: Every year during the month of February, the Horsetall Falls turn golden around sunset.

This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calmed — see here it is —
I hold it towards you.

John Keats, “This Living Hand”

I know older men in comedy who can barely feed and clean themselves, and they still work. The women, though, they’re all ‘crazy.’ I have a suspicion — and hear me out, because this is a rough one — that the definition of “crazy” in show business is a woman who keeps talking even after no one wants to fuck her anymore.

Tina Fey

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?

Charles Bukowski

image from