Wheres Victoria

underthesamesofa: Jardin des Tuileries, Paris (by .natasha.)

Mon, 13 May 2013 01:52:28 -0500

Jardin des Tuileries, Paris (by .natasha.)

Photo

Mon, 13 May 2013 01:12:32 -0500

"People disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for..."

Mon, 13 May 2013 00:42:24 -0500

“People disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet away.”

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via alighthouseofwords)

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement:If anyone in the vicinity of...

Mon, 13 May 2013 00:38:00 -0500

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,

I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via alzati)

Letters From Thoreau

Mon, 13 May 2013 00:25:59 -0500

Pursue, keep up with, circle round and round your life, as a dog does his master’s chaise. Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still. Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something. All fables, indeed, have their morals; but the innocent enjoy the story. Let nothing come between you and the light. Respect men and brothers only. When you travel to the Celestial City, carry no letter of introduction. When you knock, ask to see Grod, — none of the servants. In what concerns you much, do not think that you have companions: know that you are alone in the world.

Aptek Bar in St-Petersburg, Russia is designed by Dopludo...

Thu, 09 May 2013 22:11:08 -0500

Aptek Bar in St-Petersburg, Russia is designed by Dopludo Collective.

The best or worst thing I’ve ever watched. I can’t...

Thu, 09 May 2013 06:56:00 -0500

The best or worst thing I’ve ever watched. I can’t decide which.

Comic Sans is the best font in the world
If you want your designs to look like they’re done by little girls

shortformblog: politicalprof: jeffmiller: This is the secret...

Thu, 09 May 2013 06:40:06 -0500

shortformblog:

politicalprof:

jeffmiller:

This is the secret to life.

Politicalprof: David Foster Wallace explains it all to you. Listen.

There is no way to overstate how much we recommend taking 10 minutes to watch this video.

I cannot express enough my love for DFW.

“This is water, this is water”

helloyoucreatives: Short film of the day. Dive my pretties.

Thu, 09 May 2013 05:15:23 -0500

helloyoucreatives:

Short film of the day. Dive my pretties.

nevver: Open all night

Thu, 09 May 2013 04:03:38 -0500

Christopher Domakis

Christopher Domakis

Christopher Domakis

Christopher Domakis

Christopher Domakis

nevver:

Open all night

"And make no mistake: irony tyrannizes us. The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so..."

Thu, 09 May 2013 03:31:05 -0500

“And make no mistake: irony tyrannizes us. The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying is that an ironist is impossible to pin down. All U.S. irony is based on an implicit “I don’t really mean what I’m saying.” So what does irony as a cultural norm mean to say? That it’s impossible to mean what you say? That maybe it’s too bad it’s impossible, but wake up and smell the coffee already? Most likely, I think, today’s irony ends up saying: “How totally banal of you to ask what I really mean.”

- David Foster Wallace

“If, by the virtue of charity or the circumstance of desperation, you ever chance to spend a...

Tue, 07 May 2013 03:05:18 -0500

“If, by the virtue of charity or the circumstance of desperation, you ever chance to spend a little time around a Substance-recovery halfway facility like Enfield MA’s state-funded Ennet House, you will acquire many exotic new facts…That certain persons simply will not like you no matter what you do. That sleeping can be a form of emotional escape and can with sustained effort be abused. That purposeful sleep-deprivation can also be an abusable escape. That you do not have to like a person in order to learn from him/her/it. That loneliness is not a function of solitude. That logical validity is not a guarantee of truth. That it takes effort to pay attention to any one stimulus for more than a few seconds. That boring activities become, perversely, much less boring if you concentrate intently on them. That if enough people in a silent room are drinking coffee it is possible to make out the sound of steam coming off the coffee. That sometimes human beings have to just sit in one place and, like, hurt. That you will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do. That there is such a thing as raw, unalloyed, agendaless kindness. That it is possible to fall asleep during an anxiety attack. That concentrating intently on anything is very hard work. That 99% of compulsive thinkers’ thinking is about themselves; that 99% of this self-directed thinking consists of imagining and then getting ready for things that are going to happen to them; and then, weirdly, that if they stop to think about it, that 100% of the things they spend 99% of their time and energy imagining and trying to prepare for all the contingencies and consequences of are never good. In short that 99% of the head’s thinking activity consists of trying to scare the everliving shit out of itself. That it is possible to make rather tasty poached eggs in a microwave oven. That some people’s moms never taught them to cover up or turn away when they sneeze. That the people to be the most frightened of are the people who are the most frightened. That it takes great personal courage to let yourself appear weak. That no single, individual moment is in and of itself unendurable. That other people can often see things about you that you yourself cannot see, even if those people are stupid. That having a lot of money does not immunize people from suffering or fear. That trying to dance sober is a whole different kettle of fish. That different people have radically different ideas of basic personal hygiene. That, perversely, it is often more fun to want something than to have it. That if you do something nice for somebody in secret, anonymously, without letting the person you did it for know it was you or anybody else know what it was you did or in any way or form trying to get credit for it, it’s almost its own form of intoxicating buzz. That anonymous generosity, too, can be abused. That it is permissible to want. That everybody is identical in their unspoken belief that way deep down they are different from everyone else. That this isn’t necessarily perverse. That there might not be angels, but there are people who might as well be angels.”

Infinite Jest- David Foster Wallace

"Early in the novel, the local priest tells Emma, “Sorrow is essential to forgiveness…The soul must..."

Tue, 07 May 2013 01:13:42 -0500

“Early in the novel, the local priest tells Emma, “Sorrow is essential to forgiveness…The soul must feel sorrow and detest the sin committed in order to reconcile with God.” Later, Emma’s mother tells her, “You know nothing… Sorrow is a privilege. It’s how we earn our truths. You haven’t even begun to earn them.” The necessity of sorrow—as a step toward redemption, according to the priest, or as a step toward wisdom, according to Emma’s mother—runs throughout this novel. How do we reconcile our private grievances with a chaotic, unpredictable world? How do we begin to forgive those who injure us?”

- Jon Sealy reviews In the Garden of Stone, by Susan Tekulve (via therumpus)

the Rumblr: Some Philosophies of Orbit

Tue, 07 May 2013 01:07:36 -0500

the Rumblr: Some Philosophies of Orbit:

therumpus:

Wesley Rothman

1. Reincarnation. 2. What is said of insanity:
expecting a different result, immortality

or keeping all your money. 3. The equation of circumference
or a wedding band. 3.1 The greatest distance between

two inseparable objects. 3.2 Contradiction in terms
of touching without…

nevver: Drinking is bad, feelings are worse.

Sat, 04 May 2013 22:02:48 -0500

nevver:

Drinking is bad, feelings are worse.

nevver: “Give me two hours a day of activity, and I’ll take the...

Sat, 04 May 2013 21:47:50 -0500

nevver:

“Give me two hours a day of activity, and I’ll take the other twenty-two in dreams.”

analogvisions: “Everything was there and around us. We knew...

Thu, 02 May 2013 22:53:52 -0500

analogvisions:

“Everything was there and around us. We knew exactly who we were and exactly where we were going. It was grand.”

—Stephen King, The Body
From Different Seasons

Multnomah Creek, Columbia River Gorge, OR, March 2013
Shot with a Diana F+
Kodak Ektachrome EPP 100 Plus, exp. 08/89, cross-processed

Miguel - Do You… (Cashmere Cat Remix)

Wed, 01 May 2013 20:28:05 -0500

Miguel - Do You… (Cashmere Cat Remix)

Photo

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 19:11:42 -0500

"My cousin invited me to live with him and his family for a month and I followed-up with him about..."

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 19:06:18 -0500

“My cousin invited me to live with him and his family for a month and I followed-up with him about it. I told him to ask his wife. I was thinking about living in New York, about leaving Los Angeles for awhile, and it seemed an easy thing to do. When I was back in Los Angeles, practicing yoga with one of my favorite teachers, I thought, I would miss this. Then I realized I would miss a lot of things. I started crying because I felt vulnerable. I want leaving to always be easy, which is a cowardly thing to want and no way to live or love, but there you are.”

- Links I Like by Zoë Ruiz (via therumpus)