“It is the opinion of this court that the Constitution was crafted in such a manner as to uphold and encourage practices that are not right and, ideally, are very wrong… Despite the compelling case for goodness, truth, and justice made by our predecessors in the case of Right v. Wrong, we firmly believe that malice, dishonesty, and injustice were the framers’ original intent.”

three buildings

I didn’t draw this. I’m just fucking around with my photo editing app.

kristianalouise:

Dutch artist Sebastiaan Bremer created his Schoener Goetterfunken (2010) works by messing with old family holiday photos. I get a crazy sense of nostalgia, but looking at someone elses memories??

Nice interview with him in BOMB Magazine. Particularly love this thought:

 You are colored by so much all the time―the things you’ve seen before, the things you’re going to do later. It’s very hard to be in the absolute now.

austinkleon:

Exhibit A: Jonathan Franzen

Maybe nobody will care about printed books 50 years from now, but I do. When I read a book, I’m handling a specific object in a specific time and place. The fact that when I take the book off the shelf it still says the same thing – that’s reassuring….Someone worked really hard to make the language just right, just the way they wanted it. They were so sure of it that they printed it in ink, on paper. A screen always feels like we could delete that, change that, move it around. So for a literature-crazed person like me, it’s just not permanent enough….Everything else in your life is fluid, but here is this text that doesn’t change….Will there still be readers 50 years from now who feel that way? Who have that hunger for something permanent and unalterable? I don’t have a crystal ball. But I do fear that it’s going to be very hard to make the world work if there’s no permanence like that. That kind of radical contingency is not compatible with a system of justice or responsible self-government.

Exhibit B: Maurice Sendak

Fuck them, I hate those e-books. They cannot be the future. They may well be, I will be dead, I won‘t give a shit.

Now — who do you want to hang out with?

a couple of photos

brake lights through the laundryroom window / intersection

nevver:

We have a winner

sniffyjenkins:

Astronaut Don Pettit, playing with his food

“But how does one clean out the whiskers in weightlessness? On Earth, you simply open the head and shake them out. Doing that up here would be a disaster. So once a week, when vacuuming the accumulation of lint, dust, and detritus against the air inlet filters, I vacuum my razor. I hold the vacuum cleaner hose between my legs, and use both hands to carefully open the shaving head in front of the suction. A cloud of whiskers jumps out, appearing like a miniature asteroid field, then quickly disappears into a black hole, with no chance of escape.”

One of my new favourite things is Letters To Earth, the NASA blog of astronaut Don Pettit, who is currently aboard the International Space Station. He writes most days, often about the mundane, day-to-day things of living in zero gravity: where chopsticks go when you lose them (not down), how to clean your electric shaver, toilet facilities on the Soyuz spacecraft, that sort of thing. He is a lovely writer, thoughtful and emotional and funny, philosophical about the little things, awe-struck by the beauty of our planet and everything in the sky around him. His musings on humanity and our perception of ourselves are quite beautiful and he takes some jaw-dropping photos as the ISS orbits (see Grand Canyon and the Eye of Issyk Kul).

Also he invented a zero-g coffee cup. Cool.

I have various astronomy apps on my iPhone that track the ISS and sometimes I look up at the sky and try to imagine that craft so high above me and Don up there, floating around in the capsule eating his space food or doing science or snoozing in his strapped-down sleeping bag or just doing general spaceman stuff and I look forward to hearing about what he’s been up to again.

I like this one, too. :)

everythinginthesky:

Caturday

This just changed my life.

Disney: Creepy Caturday. Get on it.

training notes

I hardly ever draw anymore. When I do, it’s parts of things. Mom used to do that, too. One drawing of a face, then noses practiced to the side, near the nose, lips practiced by the lips of the face, on the pad of paper by the phone in the kitchen, where mom’s thoughts floated far away, on the phone, like me in my training meeting, free associating. [I can’t believe it, but I apparently do not have a photo of any of my mom’s drawings. So, I have an assignment for myself.]

I love this, too!

I’ve found that I really enjoy curating. I can see how that’s fun. And I like that I build up an archive of things I like, and from those things, I can see what continues to interest me and what continues to bug me. What my themes are. 

Anyway, yay curating.

[Y’see how I shot myself down at the end? I do that a lot, f’rinstance.]

katefeetie:

• “You’re watching Masterpiece Theatre.” DON’T TELL ME WHAT I’M WATCHING, LAURA LINNEY.
• Ye olde one percent.
• “You mean the ladies in first class [on the Titanic]?” Ten minutes in and they’re already talking about Kate Winslet. Knock it off, British people.
• Is this one chick’s character American or does her English accent just suck?
• Every. Single. One. Of these hats needs to come back into style.
• YAY DAME MAGGIE. LET ME LIVE IN YOUR FACIAL WRINKLES.
• Oh God, the word “dowry.” The kind of word that puts me into a coma.
• This is a lot like my job, only with fancy-ass clothes instead of an apron and rich white people instead of rich white people.
• Oh yeah, I bet he CAN lift a meat pie.
• “I ate my way through four plates of sandwiches and slept ‘round the clock.” Is this… is this not normal behavior?
• Worse professions than a doctor? Pshaw pfaw harumph hurr!

I love this.

alecshao:

Compass

By choreographer Trisha Brown, 2006 (softground etching with relief roll)

Via

Another awesome art blog? What is up, Internet?

img_1255: Love Letter to the Internet

It feels private, this interaction between me and my machine. Intimate. But it’s not. But it is, too [stamp!]! Something about it tells me it is. I’m giving you my real self. The realest one I’ve ever come up with. You see me at my worst, Internet. And my best. I brag and complain to you. I’m the same with you as I am with my mom, with my boyfriend, with my real-world friends, with Flickr friends and Facebook friends and Twitter friends. Sometimes, I connect with the perfect person at the perfect time. No, not sometimes, Internet, a <i>lot</i> of times.

You get me thinking, and that’s not a small thing. You tell me all the stuff I wanna know. I sang “Don’t You Love Her as She’s Walking out the Door”, Internet, when Wikipedia went offline, and I am no fan of the Doors, my friend. (That’s something that Patti Smith and I do not have in common.)

When I don’t see you for awhile, it’s like seeing an old friend again. A whole gang of friends. A swell reunion. 

Anyway, I’m grateful for you, Internet, I am. And I’m really glad we had this talk. If you ever wanna talk, you just let me know. 

Love,
ckwinny

Finally stitched together a sunset from a coupla weeks ago, before the snow.

applehost

I made a skin for my MacBook.

(What I’m saying is that many Mac users are religious fanatics.)