even scarier halloween costume ideas:
- the growing popularity of ukip
- the conservative party’s plans to scrap the human rights act
Do you ever think about all of the really nice drunk girls you’ve met in bathrooms and wonder how they are doing? I miss you all
"Sogni e Risvegli", Elizaveta Adamenko by Pamela Hanson for Vanity Fair Italia 27th August 2014.
Was playing around with my camera and some broken glass, and I captured this. (OC)
Anonymous said: I saw your post of wanting more girl byronic figures Any books you would recommend?
i kind of made the post because i COULDN’T think of any girl figures of exactly the trope i mean— of course, i’m sure they’re out there, but i haven’t personally encountered them much in the literary *canon* at least. i was talking about a kind of brooding literary figure in western culture— your sydney cartons and rochesters, your lord byrons and robert burns— and by extension, more recently, your keruoacs and bukowskis. romantic maverick figures of moral questionability, who sleep around and drink and fight and live life by their own scattergun principles, yet who still get to be taken seriously, who still get to be the hero. the female equivalents are always brought down, laid low by circumstance or society; locked up or killed off ingloriously, having been made to apologise for ever straying from their lane. rather than visionaries, they’re sad or pathetic or just ridiculous. they never get to die heroines. i want female characters who get to be flawed and self-mythologising, who get to “suck the marrow out of life,” who get to be grandiose and highly strung and still remain the main characters of their own narratives. because they exist. i know them in real life, and if the number of girls reblogging my post with “i know someone like that,” or “this is me,” is anything to go by, the world is chock full of them.
“The world is blue at its edges and in its depths. This blue is the light that got lost. Light at the blue end of the spectrum does not travel the whole distance from the sun to us. It disperses among the molecules of the air, it scatters in water. Water is colorless, shallow water appears to be the color of whatever lies underneath it, but deep water is full of this scattered light, the purer the water the deeper the blue. The sky is blue for the same reason, but the blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance. This light that does not touch us, does not travel the whole distance, the light that gets lost, gives us the beauty of the world, so much of which is in the color blue.”
This science-meets-poetry ode to the “lost light” that is Rayleigh-scattered blue comes from her book A Field Guide To Getting Lost (reviewed marvellously at Brain Pickings)
For a scientific take on why the sky is blue (except when it isn’t) check out this video.
And when I touch you Bob Hicok, ”Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem” (via focloir)
in each of the places we meet
in all of the lives we are, it’s with hands that are dying
When I don’t touch you it’s a mistake in any life,
in each place and forever.
“That God does not exist, I cannot deny. That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget.”
— Jean-Paul Satre
Iceland, just the hint of the aurora looking out to the mountains beyond Thingvellir. A perfect night.
Palestinian Girls wearing their traditional clothes