Spanish Sahara by Foals

Circle jerking: A group of people discussing a (usually controversial) topic with the same stance, agreeing with each other to the point of redundancy. Usually involves ego-stroking and the false satisfaction of having won an argument when in fact there was no opposition, or the opposition was boo'd out of the discussion.

Example: what happens on Facebook when people discuss either a)the awesomeness of religion or, b)the evils of religion.

Now you know, (citation needed).

I like the way you think

gluttonous battle zone

sorting through clothes

of the yes's

the no's

the maybe so's

the "maybe" stack,

turns into the "when i am skinny" pact

intentions intact

but never quite exact

a ritual observance

of an annual occurrence

the little war of decadence

with this summer cleaning abhorrence

the old, the new

the forgotten few

everything you outgrew

everything that outgrew you

Where my fortune lies by Auld Lang Syne

   This song is so beautiful. It's sad but it wakes you up at the same time.

Neko Case - I wish I was the moon

Habits

When I say we, I mean I.

Habits are not just hard to break, they are hard to identify. Habits are inevitable (obviously) but there are peculiar habits that arrive out of a necessity but then never diminish. Like when we see beauty we want to capture it. With a photograph, with a painting, with anything that is more lasting than our experience. And for what? So it can be shared. Mostly. We enhance our lives with music, with stories, with art. We capture it in bits. A moment becomes a picture, a quote…..a tweet. When you feel something you can't wholly understand, or precisely express - there's a song that'll do just that. And we encapsulate that moment in that song. While the song is supposed to be an expression of the reality, in the end what remains is the song. The moment doesn't stand independently anymore. It's a habit. To create information bites, whether it's through words, visuals or sounds. We produce bits, and more importantly we consume bits.  Quotes, extracted from their contexts, bolded and reproduced within pairs of bunny ear punctuation marks. It is a habit to want to enhance the experience. But the enhancement itself becomes the experience, and the reality is boiled down to representations. 

Our experiences become filtered and foreign. We participate in a culture of sharing, but once you share something it acquires a life of its own. It's not yours anymore, and it's not sacred. It becomes the object of someone else's analysis, based on the way they perceive things. Once the original context is removed, you most likely have diminished the beauty that you witnessed. The beauty that you wanted to capture. What you felt is no longer unedited. That feeling that allowed you to perceive something in a unique way is no longer present. And all that is left is that bit of information. Like a thought expressed in a blogpost.

When you are smoking a cigarette, you are inclined to finish it. Whether midway it loses its purpose, whether midway you no longer desire it - you finish it regardless. Sure it's a waste if you don't, but you are no longer smoking for the reason that you chose to smoke. You are smoking to finish it. Just like that, you are no longer capturing beauty to appreciate it, you are capturing it to contain it. 

It's dictatorial. It's consuming. Of course, nothing would be created if no one actualized their ideas. If thoughts were never put to paper there would be no production, no growth. But does it have to be so engrained? But, beauty is still as beautiful if you don't frame it, right? Without those encapsulating markers we forget to understand what we appreciate and what we don't. We forget how to differentiate between what is enchanting to us versus what we think should be enchanting. And realizing this is not enough to overcome it. But it maintains your sanity.

the alternate universe was rapture

the alternate universe was rapture

but you couldn't wait for capture

you did what you thought

was the best for your plot

you did what you thought,

what you ought to have not.

30 second paintings

Light painting

 (thirty second exposure and LED lights)

I was experimenting mostly with shutter speed and trying to properly frame the picture. When you are trying to draw on air, with little light, it takes some practice to figure out where the picture frame begins and ends. Despite the unpolished results, it was a lot of fun. 

              For Arriana: the newest addition to my favourite white family.

             p.s. Crafts are so much fun. 

Watch it - Brief Interviews with Hideous Men

Sometimes the best movies turn out to be the ones I have never heard about (probably because of the low expectations). Pleasantly surprised by John Krasinski's talents.

"Brief interviews with hideous men" trailer":

The tragically hip at Bluesfest (09.07.2011)

      Gordon Downie

      Downie with his white man dance moves

      Paul Langlois

      Rob Baker

oh, imgur

made me lol.

A few days ago I realized I couldn't think of a gender-neutral, age-neutral english term for son/daughter. After 2 days the only word I could think of was "offspring". But there must be a more colloquial equivalent.

I can't remember why this came up in the first place, it might have been because of this article: Parents keep child's gender secret, but it has been mildly bothering me ever since.

Gasoline and Matches

coop

cubicle living,

so dull and forgiving,

lived it through June,

and the forevermoon.

The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel

One of my favourite contemporary poems:

The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel

In an effort to get people to look

into each other’s eyes more,

and also to appease the mutes,

the government has decided

to allot each person exactly one hundred

and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear

without saying hello. In the restaurant

I point at chicken noodle soup.

I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,

proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.

I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond,

I know she’s used up all her words,

so I slowly whisper I love you

thirty-two and a third times.

After that, we just sit on the line

and listen to each other breathe.

literary crimes

it was injury to sight

she held Slaughter House Five
and he complacently obliged

they experienced the thrill
of their illicit act:
folding page corners

all dog-eared books
and doe-eyed looks

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dog_ears

happy people

happy people with their 

nervous whispers 

and carefree 

fragile fingers 

mistakenly linger 

on remedies 

of jealousies 

and memories 

of ecstasies 

and their cacophony 

of melodies 

happy people with their 

nervous whispers 

and carefree 

fragile fingers 

needlessly agree 

on mutual demise 

their sacrificial eyes 

telling colossal lies 

as they improvise 

the highs 

of painful goodbyes

so, just where do we belong?

the journey we took is so

long, long, long

the turns we took are so

wrong, wrong, wrong