Between a Rock and a Hard place



Reblogged from humansofnewyork
humansofnewyork:

"Sometimes it’s so hard to not fall in love with your friends."

humansofnewyork:

"Sometimes it’s so hard to not fall in love with your friends."

Left. Of Right.

You’re gone. 

I know. 

A wife and baby

in tow.

My chance,

I’ve blown…

You’re there,

too far…

The pain inside you

has marred…

the once sweet man

is bitter. 

And hard. 

You’re back!

So soon.

Like wisps of a mist

the shards of my heart

ar doomed.

To love you. 

Still. 

Reblogged from thefreehelpguy

Project 11 - Can you help us help those with learning disabilities?

thefreehelpguy:

It’s easy to pass through life unattached to most of it. This, in part, is what made me want to offer my time out for free for the next 6 months, knowing full well that some of what I was missing out on could potentially offer itself back to me in the form of a request for help. When Cherry, the Communications Assistant here at Heart n Soul, tweeted to see if I would like to help out for the day, all I needed was a nudge toward google to realise this is exactly the kind of charity and, as it’s turned out throughout today, group of people it would be an absolute pleasure to spend some time with.

Read More

Reblogged from streetartglobal
streetartglobal:

Gorgeous mural by perennial favourites El Mac and Retna in Miami. Thanks to Street Art O’Clock for sending this in.

streetartglobal:

Gorgeous mural by perennial favourites El Mac and Retna in Miami. Thanks to Street Art O’Clock for sending this in.

Reblogged from elisebrown
Reblogged from newyorker
newyorker:

Cartoon by Liam Francis Walsh. For more: http://nyr.kr/13Exetp

newyorker:

Cartoon by Liam Francis Walsh. For more: http://nyr.kr/13Exetp

Meanderings & Musings…

What is it about heading into pastoral England that immediately fills me with a sense that every atom is taking a collective sigh?

Spring is trying (not very hard, I’ll grant) to break through the icy clamp Winter has upon the land, with railway stations defiantly placing staunch little flower pots of optimistic foliage. Wait, could it be possible that I’m in…*sudden intake of breath* …holiday mode?!?!? Already everything’s starting to taste better!

I have my camera (in case the weather decides to play nice) and am ready to do battle with elements of the great outdoors! Been too long grumpy with this indoorsy-type shit!

Onwards and outwards, Fraser! The daffodils are beaming happily their encouragement.

(And if all else fails, you can find me, hearth-side, glass of wine in hand).

There is always tomorrow, after all…

Reblogged from newyorker

newyorker:

In this week’s issue of the magazine (the Style Issue), Pari Dukovic’s Portfolio of the emerging punk culture in Burma follows Calvin Tomkins’s piece about the upcoming exhibition at the Met’s Costume Institute “Punk: Chaos to Couture.” As the introduction to Dukovic’s photographs explains,

Punk in nineteen-seventies New York tended to be more concerned with aesthetics than with politics. It was spare, nervy music created in reaction to the embarrassing excesses of arena rock. Often, the “establishment” it railed against was your mom, or your school principal. (The final scene of the Ramones’ movie “Rock ’n’ Roll High School” is Vince Lombardi High exploding in flames.) Decades later, a punk diaspora thrives around the world. In Myanmar, a small punk community that stayed underground through decades of military rule is beginning to emerge.

Click-through for more, plus a slideshow of Dukovic’s photos: http://nyr.kr/YNc5aT

Reblogged from streetartglobal
streetartglobal:

Sheryo and Yok have just gotten back from the orient, Aus and Mexico. Here’s a vid from Australia - https://vimeo.com/56145199. This pic from Aus too; for more check www.theyok.com and www.sheryoart.com.

streetartglobal:

Sheryo and Yok have just gotten back from the orient, Aus and Mexico. Here’s a vid from Australia - https://vimeo.com/56145199. This pic from Aus too; for more check www.theyok.com and www.sheryoart.com.

Reblogged from karenkristie

karenkristie:

A special message from Neil Gaiman about his novel THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE (on sale June 18, 2013).

(via neil-gaiman)

Life defining

It’s a funny thing, that time in space when you reach a momentous decision to swim against the main stream of public opinion…

And do exactly the opposite of what your friends decide is supposedly best for you.

I guess I need to write this down to justify my logic, should I be blessed with such…

DECISION: I am not going to bypass a BA in favour of an MA

REASONS:
1. I have a sneaky suspicion that there’s a natural progression of logic between the levels, FD-BA-MA-PhD

2. I doubt that I have the natural academic capacity to bypass any of the steps above anyway 

3. I believe in honouring the institution that’s investing its hard-earned time & knowledge in growing my grey matter. I can do this by paying my dues through its system & keeping the faculty employed

4. I don’t believe in shortcuts. They never end well. You always landing up paying double the price you should have in the first place - and that’s literally AND metaphorically. 

If I put my mind to it, I could probably find a reason or two more to add to this. But for now, that’s about the sum total of my argument.

Oh yeah.

Before I forget.

There *is* one last thing…

I think I’m a bit beyond peer pressure. 

Reblogged from streetartglobal
streetartglobal:

This week’s interview with superb Russian artist Nomerz. The photo set is awesome!

streetartglobal:

This week’s interview with superb Russian artist Nomerz. The photo set is awesome!

Letter to my Mother

Last night I was travelling home in the rain, the ubiquitous red London bus reflected in the puddles of rain as the droplets of water cascaded down the misted windows. It thundered (unusual for London!), reminding me of the tempestuous storms back home on the Highveld. Yes, home will always be Africa for me, I guess, no matter where my travels take me…

As the traffic ground to a snail’s pace, an upstairs light shone forth from some stranger’s home. In the un-shuttered window stood a dressmaker’s mannequin. And mom, while you are never far from my thoughts, the image sharply reminded me of the hundreds of hours you poured into sewing costumes for my ballet performances, competitions and exams that bound our lives from as far back as I can remember. There wasn’t a time when I wasn’t being admonished to stand still while you agonised over a hemline, or the meddlesome drape of a Greek chiton. There also wasn’t a time when I set foot on stage in anything other than the perfect outfit. From the royal blue Russian dress for my first ever Concorde de Ballet competition, to the exquisite satin coffee-coloured tutu for my final competitive appearance as Princess Aurora. You created a magical skin in which I could transform into whichever   character I needed to be, whether it was a star, Peter Rabbit or Frith. I had costumes created ion me that I longed to wear long after I had outgrown them (remember the ice blue skater costume with white fur trim? I used to squeeze into that dress long after the seams could take the strain!)

I know you can’t ever thank your parents enough. But this one is long overdue.

You see, every moment I was on stage, your love was with me, literally sewn into the fabric of each and every costume.

I cherish the memory of each and every costume. How lucky was I, as a child, to have such a tangible expression of a mother’s love? And how much luckier am I, as an adult, to be able to tell my mom how much I appreciate the hours she loving poured into helping me make my dreams come true…

Reblogged from lampandowlmagazine