Talk about hitting it on the nail.
…I have never understood the concept of infatuation. It has always been my understanding that being ‘infatuated’ with someone means you think you are in love, but you’re actually not; infatuation is (supposedly) just a foolish, fleeting feeling. But if being ‘in love’ is an abstract notion, and it’s not tangible, and there is no way to physically prove it to anyone else… well, how is being in love any different than having an infatuation? They’re both human constructions. If you think you’re in love with someone and you feel like you’re in love with someone, then you obviously are; thinking and feeling is the sum total of what love is. Why do we feel an obligation to certify emotions with some kind of retrospective, self-imposed authenticity?
Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story (via pinksubmergence)
-I will have to think on this one.- k
Michael Shapcott is a full-time artist based in central Connecticut. He says that art is his life, so it makes sense that he has launched a Kickstarter project to help him draw a portrait a day for 365 days — using his backers as his subjects. For those of us that are camera shy, rewards also include beautiful prints, painting tutorials, or a peek into the creative process via live video feed. Pretty neat!
PRINT GIVEAWAY! on Flickr.
ok, so heres the deal :)
I’m giving away these three prints as a set-they will be signed and numbered.
They are 5x7s, and are really pretty. I literally squealed when I saw them printed…they would look really fun and whimsical hanging on a wall in your dorm/bedroom/bathroom/livingroom/hallway!!!
There are three ways to enter, since this will be posted on my flickr, tumblr, and Facebook.
1.You can comment on this picture on my flickr
2. You can reblog on tumblr (make sure you reblog from my original post)
3. You can “like” my Facebook page, like this picture, and share it (one chance by liking it, 2 chances if you “like” AND “share” it)
So if you do all four, you technically can quadruple your chance of winning! I will leave this open until Friday, April 20. Remember, you get all three and they are 5x7s :))
vanishing points.
old broken bones
have come home to heal.
the pens are drying out, chickens
in the backyard, windows under (more)
years of dust.
why haven’t we
learned a new language
to explain
our unknowable hearts?
scrawling out scared
notes to leave on the windshields
of…
We enter a spiritual puberty where we snap to the fact that the great transcendent horror is loneliness, excluded encagement in the self. Once we’ve hit this age, we will now give or take anything, wear any mask, to fit, be part-of, not be Alone, we young. The U.S. arts are our guide to inclusion. A how-to. We are shown how to fashion masks of ennui and jaded irony at a young age where the face is fictile enough to assume the shape of whatever it wears. And then it’s stuck there, the weary cynicism that saves us from gooey sentiment and unsophisticated naiveté .
David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (via sometimesagreatnotion)
Not so funny, but still, sadly true.
