…wonders what could be better than a large low hanging golden moon followed by an indelible pink orange sunrise?
Monthly Archives: April 2010
Male Models: Chop Suey
Darth and Lobster Dance Their Way to Union Square!
A Good Sign: Running Whatsit
Anyone every seen this bizarre cutout illustration on Roosevelt Avenue in Woodside? It adorns one of those cut-rate discount stores.
via A Good Sign: Running Whatsit | Lost City
So a long time, right?
Laptop just told me it will take 30,079 days and 7 hours to make this DVD, anyone know how many years that is?
Jackie Shane: Walking The Dog
Ambrose Bierce: Freedom
Freedom, as every schoolboy knows,
Once shrieked as Kosciusko fell;
On every wind, indeed, that blows
I hear her yell.
She screams whenever monarchs meet,
And parliaments as well,
To bind the chains about her feet
And toll her knell.
And when the sovereign people cast
The votes they cannot spell,
Upon the pestilential blast
Her clamors swell.
For all to whom the power’s given
To sway or to compel,
Among themselves apportion Heaven
And give her Hell.
— Ambrose Bierce
Grace Jones: ‘God I’m scary. I’m scaring myself’
Pop’s formidable diva talks to Simon Hattenstone about sex, slaps and annoying copycats (that’s you, Lady Gaga)
on Gaga: So, did she ask to play with her? “Yes, she did, but I said no. I’d just prefer to work with someone who is more original and someone who is not copying me, actually.”
via Grace Jones: ‘God I’m scary. I’m scaring myself’ | The Guardian
I’m not laughing
…”Polish President’s Funeral hit by Ash”…was the headline, why did I then scream – CREMATE HIM!!!
not logical, but is often true.
Life is Beautiful Dammit!
Langston Hughes: I, Too, Sing America
I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.
I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”
They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed–
I, too, am America.
by Langston Hughes
A man who works with his hands is a laborer; a man who works with his hands and his brain is a craftsman; but a man who works with his hands and his brain and his heart is an artist.
— Louis Nizer
…has apparently broken another young man’s heart, and is the ruiner of all things good in the world…but he did call me heirophant, which I suppose is better than a sycophant…
RIP: Dixie Carter
Designing Women: “The Candidate”
Next Page→ Loving Interview
The Now Defunct Holly Chronicles
It seems that there wasn’t even a competition. As prolific a writer as I am, there is absolutely no way in the world I can keep up with the charming antics of a kitten. I just stumbled upon a picture of her as a tiny small frail thing, that squeaked (because of some malady she was suffering that required droplets of medicine which she did not care for at all), and was as dumpster diva tranny hooker as you can imagine. She still is in many ways. Continue reading
So, drawn on by my destiny,
I ceaselessly must listen to and keep
the sea’s lamenting in my awareness,
I must feel the crash of the hard water
and gather it up in a perpetual cup
— Pablo Neruda
RIP: Malcom McLaren
I want to live inside this video — “butterfly, butterfly have no fear” (kudos to PhDJ for finding it) In just these few short minutes I traveled from Friday Night Videos to Tower Records in 1984 buying this 12″ and the Cocteau Twins, and then had them perfume my entire life…you will be missed dear Malcolm.
1984: Join the Coffee Achievers
A Something in a Summer’s Day
by Emily Dickinson
A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer’s noon—
A depth—an Azure—a perfume—
And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see—
Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle—shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me—
The wizard fingers never rest—
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed—
Still rears the East her amber Flag—
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red—
So looking on—the night—the morn
Conclude the wonder gay—
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!
Street Style NYC
Just saw a girl pushing Jody Watley style at Boro hall & it took all I had not to shriek—
HAVEL: New Certainties
Isn’t it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing its absurdity.
— Vaclav Havel
A snapshot of 1970s Times Square
Bob Gruen took this photo of Times Square in April 1972. Everything in it is now gone.
via A snapshot of 1970s Times Square | Ephemeral New York
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