Maria Carla Boscono by Juergen Teller for Paradis Magazine, 2008.
(Source: starsareburningbright, via youreashamedofmybaking)
Number 2003 11.26.11
This is absolutely lovely. It pains me that my distance from blogging is now such that I have nothing particularly interesting to say about a photograph that is plainly loaded with thematic and formal intricacies (e.g. the way the reflected building and the reflecting building are at such — imagined — perpendicular angle to each other; the way the two colors are almost complementary; the clash of modern coolness and old earthiness; the wavy distortion set behind/within/upon a hyper-regular grid; etc.), despite the fact that I think that (a) the photograph is interesting, and (b) I’m a guy who often (sometimes?) has interesting things to say about interesting things, of which this is, as previously stated, one.
Ugh. I guess you’ll just have to settle for that “e.g.” as far as aesthetic insight is concerned. But suffice it to say: I love this photo.
Prententious thoughts:
(Source: lildo, via bethshapeero)
Los Angeles
This photograph is so warm and yet so sinister. Welcoming you with open arms and a kind smile to a nightmarish place you would never want to go and never want to leave…
Someone, please, stop me, save me from myself. Take the name and start a blog of your own with it. There are endless possibilities:
In any case, I would be your first and most ardent follower, and you’d be doing the world a great service by preventing a pun of that nerdy magnitude from remaining in my hands too long. You wouldn’t let a pyromaniac hold onto a military-grade flamethrower, now would you?
FACT: Snoop Dogg (né Calvin Cordozar Broadus, Jr.) and I share the same birthday, as well as several other pastimes.
[Looking back, I realize that using the word “other” in that sentence seems to retroactively imply that being born on October 20 somehow constitutes a pastime commensurable with smoking weed, cruising around Californian dystopias, visiting doctors, crafting ill rhymes and being simultaneously bewildered and sardonic at all times. That’s obviously not what I meant, and I am of course no friend of syntactic/semantic confusion. But, BUT: if I were to correct the sentence to be more rigorously structured, that would obviate the need for the parenthetical that I am presently relishing the writing of. And since I clearly adore writing parentheticals — especially useless self-referential ones — much more than I enjoy making absolute sense, I’m going to have to issue a great big “stet” so as to allow that initial sentence to persist in its trivially malapropistic sloppiness. Ain’t nuthin’ but a G thang, baaaaaby…!!!]
(Source: smokingissexy, via hellooccifer)
![FACT: Snoop Dogg (né Calvin Cordozar Broadus, Jr.) and I share the same birthday, as well as several other pastimes.
[Looking back, I realize that using the word “other” in that sentence seems to retroactively imply that being born on October 20 somehow constitutes a pastime commensurable with smoking weed, cruising around Californian dystopias, visiting doctors, crafting ill rhymes and being simultaneously bewildered and sardonic at all times. That’s obviously not what I meant, and I am of course no friend of syntactic/semantic confusion. But, BUT: if I were to correct the sentence to be more rigorously structured, that would obviate the need for the parenthetical that I am presently relishing the writing of. And since I clearly adore writing parentheticals — especially useless self-referential ones — much more than I enjoy making absolute sense, I’m going to have to issue a great big “stet” so as to allow that initial sentence to persist in its trivially malapropistic sloppiness. Ain’t nuthin’ but a G thang, baaaaaby…!!!]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_louo26ZIuP1qagkhko1_1280.png)
… for an internship position in their programming department for the rest of the summer. (Film series/festival programming, not computer programming…)
I’m meeting with them at their Presidio headquarters this afternoon. Wish me luck!
In this beclouded world, all I have that’s real and that will last is my mind. And even that might not be real, and even that might not last.
I think this is the most elemental formulation of all my woes, the mite that inflames all the flesh around it.
