I’m 1000% sure Steve Roggenbuck and his collective of creative people will do some amazing, wonderful, and positive stuff when they get set up. I also can’t wait to get my hands and eyes on I Love You, Before Long I Die, because I love Walt Whitman and I can’t wait to see which poems Steve has selected and what he has to say about them.
So, please go look at this campaign and help out if you can. The rewards are solid and joy inducing and the project is going to ripple out so many delightful and thought provoking works. 60 hours left.
Neslon Mandela was one of the brightest advocates for peace that there’s no doubt that he will rest in it. His legacy of love, healing, and change will see him immortal, he’ll never be forgotten. He had the definition of a long and meaningful life.
It’s by a mega cheap brand called BYS, which I think may be an Aus version of NYX. I don’t have it with me right now, which is annoying because it has an awesome sassy name I’m pretty sure. When I do have it at hand I will let you know its name. It is an amazing colour, so amazing it makes up for the weird waxy feel of the lipstick itself.
Half the time when I look at people’s selfies now I wonder how many they took before they decided on the one they uploaded. Am I become a dry cynical husk? Am I not getting it? Is this a poem where the metaphor for life is selfies?
I totally forgot to post about this earlier in the week, but on Tuesday Jessica, our friend Jayden smoked weed and watched a (bad) documentary on alien abduction. I just really don’t know if I am a real person anymore, or just a character in someone’s weird novella (yeah, novella, not even a full novel). Pretty sure I’m not even the main character either (it would explain so much).*
*this post has been brought to you by my living post-ironically and falling short.
“Standing in the crowd last night you could feel how lucky everyone felt to be there at a show that conceivably would never happen. For those unaware, the Forum is an atmospheric theatre. It’s decorated with Greco-Roman statues and has a blue ceiling with a scattering of tiny star like lights that create an eternal twilight.”—
I have never smiled and cried at a show more in my whole life. I feel like it was a genuinely rare privilege to have experienced their music live. I do not care how sappy this is. Great energy. Great music. Everything was wonderful, I feel very lucky and a bit like it didn’t actually happen.
If the majority of the biggest music videos this year have shown us anything, being subtle is lame. Lily Allen is everything but in Hard Out Here, and proving once again that she is so fucking clever when it comes to this pop music game.
"Sometime it’s hard to find the words to say, I’ll go ahead and say them anyway, forget your balls and grow a pair of tits, it’s hard, it’s hard, it’s hard out here for a bitch …"
It’s a strange almost paradox with social media. You can sometimes feel so connected, so close to people very far away, who you don’t really know. Then there are other times when you feel alone in a crowd of other people who feel alone in a crowd and we’re all yelling about something.We’re all strands in a wwweb. Sometimes tight and close with connections that are strong. Sometimes separated by huge gaps hanging on by a thread.
I dropped the class, but I still somehow feel like it was enough for me to have a rough idea. I mean I’ve done six weeks of that, read some Sartre, and understand Cartesian theory kinda. I get what Camus was getting at basically and I can pronounce his name correctly. I’ve read some Hegel, Nietzsche, and a lot of the stuff the ancient Greek dudes had to say for Lit classes. So basically I feel like I get a bit about the theory of life and humanity and shit.
Listening to the lyrics I just get an image of one of those dick guys whose whole persona is contrived to make himself seem interesting because ultimately he is not much more than an arsehole. You know the type of guy, pretends to love poetry (but usually only likes his own, which seems to only contain strange mixed metaphors about sex), scoffs at people’s enthusiasm for anything ‘maintstream’ (in a way that makes the listener feel stupid instead of revealing he’s a bastard), either talks way too much because they love a rant (and the sound of their own voice) or way too little because he’s trying to seem mysterious. Fashion choices often modelled after either Johnny Cash or Kurt Cobain (but who are they kidding, they could never be that cool). They say they’re a male feminist, but hate on Medea or any other ‘crazy’ female characters. You normally don’t realise this type of guy is a basic bitch until you’re in your mid-twenties, up until that point he has tricked you into thinking he is interesting.
If you’ve ever taken a Literature class you’ve probably met two or three.
“Capitalism is not real; it is an idea. America is not real; it is an idea that someone had ages ago. Britain, Christianity, Islam, karate, Wednesdays are all just ideas that we choose to believe in and very nice ideas they are, too, when they serve a purpose. These concepts, though, cannot be served to the detriment of actual reality.
The reality is we have a spherical ecosystem, suspended in, as far as we know, infinite space upon which there are billions of carbon-based life forms, of which we presume ourselves to be the most important, and a limited amount of resources.
The only systems we can afford to employ are those that rationally serve the planet first, then all humanity. Not out of some woolly, bullshit tree-hugging piffle but because we live on it, currently without alternatives. This is why I believe we need a unifying and inclusive spiritual ideology: atheism and materialism atomise us and anchor us to one frequency of consciousness and inhibit necessary co-operation.”—Russell Brand (via ricktimus)