Impetuous Headlong Rush

balletballetballet: Photo: G. Schiavone

Fri, 24 May 2013 17:13:39 -0400

Photo: G. Schiavone

alicexz: “What kind of bird are you?” – Moonrise Kingdom...

Thu, 23 May 2013 22:26:49 -0400

“What kind of bird are you?” – Moonrise Kingdom (2012)

One of the new paintings for my cinema-inspired solo show, which opens June 7th at Bottleneck Gallery! Strictly limited edition giclée prints will be available at the show and online afterwards!

Madeleine Blair: Nobody's Victim

Thu, 23 May 2013 19:49:55 -0400

Madeleine Blair: Nobody's Victim :

http://podcast.cbc.ca/mp3/podcasts/ideas_20130423_58631.mp3

“A rare and detailed account of a prostitute and brothel owner in the Canadian west during the late 1800s reveals the integral role prostitutes played in shaping the Canadian frontier.”

I found it interesting how similar the “white slavery” argument is to anti-sexwork arguments given today. Definitely worth a listen.

Day 6: Silent Film

Tue, 21 May 2013 22:43:15 -0400

dangerouscombinations:

I love this. I love all the gestures and motions in it which to me references the sense that memory is also embodied. I love that there is no sense of the original time or order of the events.

"Laurie Penny’s Saudade There are more of us than you think, kicking off our high-heeled shoes to..."

Tue, 21 May 2013 22:33:04 -0400

“

Laurie Penny’s Saudade

There are more of us than you think, kicking off our high-heeled shoes to run and being told not so fast

The best minds of my generation consumed by craving, furious half naked starving-

Who ripped tights and dripping make up smoked alone in bedsits bare mattresses waiting for transfiguration.

Who ran half dressed out of department stores yelling that we didn’t want to be good and beautiful

Who glowing high and hopeful were the last to leave the gig our skin crackling with lust and sweat and pure music

Who wrote poetry on each other’s arms and cared more about fucking than being fuckable

Who worked until our backs stiffened and our limbs sang with the memory of misbehaviour that was what it was to be a woman

Who dared to dance until dawn and were drugged and raped by men in clean T-shirts and woke up scared and sore to be told it was our fault

Who swallowed bosses’ patronizing side-eyes stole away from violent broken boys in the middle of the night and vowed never again to try to fix the world one man at a time

Who slammed down the tray of drinks and tore off our aprons and aching smiles and went scowling out into the streets looking for change

Who stripped in dark rooms for strangers’ anodyne dollars because we wanted education and were told we were traitors

Who sat faces upturned to the glow of the network searching searching for strangers who would call us pretty

Who bared our breasts to hidden cameras and fought and fought and fought to be human

Who waited in grim hallways with synth-pop crackling over the speaker system for the doctor to call us clutching fistfuls of pamphlets calling us sluts whores murderers

Who crossed continents alone with knapsacks full of books bare limbs clear-eyed vision running running from the homes that held our mothers down

Who filled notebooks with gibberish philosophy and scraps of stories and cameras to prove we were there keeping our novels and the name of out children close to our hearts

Who were told all our lives that we were too loud too tisky too fat too ugly too scruffy too selfish too much too and refused to take up less space refused to be still refused refused refused to be tame

Who would never be still. Who would never shut up. Who were punished for it and spat and snarled and they shook the bars of our cages until they snapped and they called us wild and crazy and we laughed with mouths open hearts open hands open and would never not ever be tame.

Sara, I’m with you in hospital, in the narroe rooms where you have put off your veil to count your ribs through your T-shirt, short hair and secrets and quiet defiance crying together that we don’t know how to be perfect-

Lara, I’m with you in mandatory art therapy, where we draw pictures of weeping cocks and are told we are not making progress-

Lila, I’m with you in a north London bathdroom, watchhing unreal maggots crawl in the cuts in your arms and listening to your girlfriend drunk and raging through the wall-

Andy, I’m with you in Bethnal Green where you love ambitious angry women with heart brain pen fingers tongue and you have a line from Nietzche tattooed over your cunt-

Adele, I’m with you in the student occupation, with your lipstick and cloche hat and teenage lisp drawling that there’s not enough fucking in this revolution and we must take action-

Kay, I’m with you on the night bus, half drunk and high dragging bright-eyed boys home to our bed, where we watch them worn out sleeping and whisper that we will never be married-

Katie, I’m with you in Zuccotti Park, where a broken heart is less important than a broken laptop is less important than a broken future and we watch the cops beating kids bloody on the pavement for daring to ask for more-

Tara, I’m with you in Islington where you have thrown all your pretty dresses out of the window and flushed your medication so you can write and write-

Alex, I’m with you and a bottle of Scotch at two in the morning when you tell me that no man will make us live for ever and we must seduce the city the country the world-

We are always hungry.

There are more of us than you think.

”

- Laurie Penny’s Saudade, from Fifty Shades of Feminism (via mollycrabapple)

Gibson Grand also generously posted this recording here, if you...

Tue, 21 May 2013 22:23:45 -0400

Gibson Grand also generously posted this recording here, if you have trouble with tumblr videos like I often do.

gibsongrand:

love letter for katelan

you are the ghost that whispers in my ear
words as old as the soil
sharpened by the tongues of poets
and the rusted works
of lunatic asylums

only they understood
the power of virus
to ensnare our hearts
thrilling cock and cunt alike
moving in rhythm
with Mingus
and ancient trees
and butterfly wings
bending in a breeze
as hot as your breath
on a cheek that burns
for every word

you are the ghost that paints pictures on my skin
drawn in glitter and
sequins and menstrual blood
in tangled sheets
soiled with longing

and if I dare to dream
as the dead poets did
I can feel the earth
beneath our bare feet
ashes and bits of bone
and seashell
that carry mystery
as timeless
and beautiful
as your eyes
and the words you whisper in my ear
and the pictures you paint on my skin

© gibson grand

Dear lovely internet, It is the birthday of the brilliantly...

Thu, 16 May 2013 00:47:00 -0400

Dear lovely internet,

It is the birthday of the brilliantly talented and gorgeous Katelan V. Foisy.

Go read her latest post on Dangerous Combinations, and then celebrate her birth by writing someone a love letter.

Veronika

Day 2: Changing the Frequency

Wed, 15 May 2013 23:56:39 -0400

dangerouscombinations:

“I’ll never forget the day Marilyn and I were walking around New York City, just having a stroll on a nice day. She loved New York because no one bothered her there like they did in Hollywood, she could put on her plain-jane clothes and no one would notice her. She loved that. So as we we’re walking down Broadway, she turns to me and says ‘Do you want to see me become her?’ I didn’t know what she meant but I just said ‘Yes’- and then I saw it. I don’t know how to explain what she did because it was so very subtle, but she turned something on within herself that was almost like magic. And suddenly cars were slowing and people were turning their heads and stopping to stare. They were recognizing that this was Marilyn Monroe as if she pulled off a mask or something, even though a second ago nobody noticed her. I had never seen anything like it before.” - Amy Greene, wife of Marilyn’s personal photographer Milton Greene

And so it was, a flick of the switch and it happened.There was no chanting or ritual. There was no veil, only a tiny switch inside that suddenly flipped on.

It was beautiful, luminescent, the light described in a conversation. It lit up in a dark velvety sky and I knew it was mine.

If my instagram were an oracle it’d be telling me I’m going to fall in love and get married to Big Boy. This makes me laugh for no reason. Here’s to waving goodbye to thirty three and saying hello to thirty four.

In honor of my birthday I am asking you to do one thing: Write a love letter. Write it to anyone, it doesn’t have to be me, write it to yourself even. Just write a love letter and send it.

love letter for katelan (in honor of her birthday)

Wed, 15 May 2013 23:54:51 -0400

gibsongrand:

you are the ghost that whispers in my ear
words as old as the soil
sharpened by the tongues of poets
and the rusted works
of lunatic asylums

only they understood
the power of virus
to ensnare our hearts
thrilling cock and cunt alike
moving in rhythm
with Mingus
and ancient trees
and butterfly wings
bending in a breeze
as hot as your breath
on a cheek that burns
for every word

you are the ghost that paints pictures on my skin
drawn in glitter and
sequins and menstrual blood
in tangled sheets
soiled with longing

and if I dare to dream
as the dead poets did
I can feel the earth
beneath our bare feet
ashes and bits of bone
and seashell
that carry mystery
as timeless
and beautiful
as your eyes
and the words you whisper in my ear
and the pictures you paint on my skin

© gibson grand

To celebrate her birthday, Katelan Foisy suggested we all write
a love letter. I wrote this one for her. Happy Birthday, Katelan.

Photo

Mon, 13 May 2013 21:33:30 -0400

©Veronika von Volkova Parc de la Gatineau (Gatineau...

Mon, 13 May 2013 21:16:50 -0400

Parc de la Gatineau (Gatineau Park)

Another image from the project I’m slowly working on for the wonderful and deeply talented Dr. X.

jacsfishburne: Jacs Fishburne x ShootBare 4/14/13 | Maryland

Mon, 13 May 2013 14:12:24 -0400

jacsfishburne:

Jacs Fishburne x ShootBare

4/14/13 | Maryland

Photo

Mon, 13 May 2013 14:04:20 -0400

Photo

Sat, 11 May 2013 14:52:32 -0400

"Rather than fighting for every woman’s right to feel beautiful, I would like to see the return of a..."

Sat, 11 May 2013 14:43:51 -0400

“Rather than fighting for every woman’s right to feel beautiful, I would like to see the return of a kind of feminism that tells women and girls everywhere that maybe it’s all right not to be pretty and perfectly well behaved. That maybe women who are plain, or large, or old, or differently abled, or who simply don’t give a damn what they look like because they’re too busy saving the world or rearranging their sock drawer, have as much right to take up space as anyone else.”

- Laurie Penny, I don’t want to be told I’m pretty as I am - I want to live in a world where that’s irrelevant, New Statesman

"There is no such thing as not voting; you either vote by voting, or you vote by staying home and..."

Fri, 10 May 2013 20:45:23 -0400

“There is no such thing as not voting; you either vote by voting, or you vote by staying home and tacitly doubling the value of some Diehard’s vote.”

- David Foster Wallace (via bobdobalina)

realitymonster: batlesbo: airspaniel: This is literally...

Fri, 10 May 2013 19:00:15 -0400

realitymonster:

batlesbo:

airspaniel:

This is literally breathtaking.

My friend just sent this to me… wow. Watch until the end.

Levers, man. Levers as art. Quite the performance.

angrybrucie: alouettecosplay: Oh no now I feel another Cosplay...

Fri, 10 May 2013 18:26:17 -0400

angrybrucie:

alouettecosplay:

Oh no now I feel another Cosplay I want to do :|

I’ve never wanted to do an Adventure Time cosplay so bad before.

"It’s a shame, because no one would know where to find more eerie photos of Ms. V’s behind. Something..."

Fri, 10 May 2013 13:46:34 -0400

“It’s a shame, because no one would know where to find more eerie photos of Ms. V’s behind. Something that should be shared with all.”

- Rarely Important the Tumblr

Ha! This description delights me. I do believe that eerie butt photos are a thing for which to strive.

<3

optimysticals: coituskid: ayellowbirds: thefingerfuckingfemale...

Fri, 10 May 2013 13:35:11 -0400

optimysticals:

coituskid:

ayellowbirds:

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

mutantlexi:

hatebunnyoncomics:

Bad News by *alannahowe

“Mom… mom…. mom… I brought you your favorite coffee!! Mom… why do you look so sad? It’ll be okay!”

Aaaand now I’ve made myself sad.

Awwwwwwwwww

TINY PLANT MONSTER

Wanting to cheer its mom up and being adorable

I choose to believe that Ivy is about to pick this cutie up and cuddle it right now