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Apr 1
been a long ass time since i blogged anything. but this here Ryan McGinley picture deserves some sharing 

been a long ass time since i blogged anything. but this here Ryan McGinley picture deserves some sharing 


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bebelestrange:

1960s model Veruschka

bebelestrange:

1960s model Veruschka


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Aug 3
claytoncubitt:
Daniele Tamagni, cover image for ‘Gentlemen of Bacongo’, his book on the Sapeurs of Brazzaville, Congo. (via)

claytoncubitt:

Daniele Tamagni, cover image for ‘Gentlemen of Bacongo’, his book on the Sapeurs of Brazzaville, Congo. (via)

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Jul 9

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Apr 19

planted a roof top garden today. between that and the CSA hopefully i won’t be buying too many veggies this summer.

it was windy on the roof, an amazing day


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Apr 17
yay! if you get a chance.. go

yay! if you get a chance.. go


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Apr 11

a big dancer from last nights party.. 


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Apr 8

Bedtime Story

Every night a man walks by my house and calls my name. If this were
a movie, his voice would sound like Spanish guitar and blue eyes and in
 
an hour and a half we would have a big wedding. But it’s only real life,
a street, a neighbor I don’t know, who named his dog Amy, and he says it
like a swear word
 
like an evangelist
like a drunk husband
like an out-of-work father
making a fist
 
and for a sleepy second I’m confused because I don’t know any men like
that and how strange to hear Amy! Bad Girl! outside my head, this far
 
from the typewriter. I wonder if there are other Amys on the street.
I hope one of them is not just learning to play herself like a toy piano,
 
or scared of her wallpaper in the dark and the tree outside her window
with hooks for hands, or in bed with a meteor shower she thinks is
 
the moon. Some night I will find her before you do, tie her in my yard
to a kite, and change her name to a lullaby. Then I’ll walk by your house
 
every night, and sing it.
 
                                     - Amy Grimm


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Letter from the Countryside


 
Quite in the middle of nowhere
I have sought to discover
The extent of my ignorance
And am doing admirably.
 
A light-starved hawthorn
Caught among pines puts out
A few plain flowers,
And I do not grab
 
As once I might have have at
The analogy but let
The pointless sweetness
Of the fact flood me.
 
The beauty of abandonment
Is no mean thing:
Goldenrod growing through
The frame of a rusted Chevy,
 
Listing barns, fields
(And fields are people’s lives)
Routed by poplar
Effacing whole generations.
 
It’s forlorn, the children
Grown up only to move away -
But who cares for
Packaged consolations?
 
Meaning stubbornly luxuriates,
The sturdy American
Weaknesses beckon:
Seeing is believing,
 
Remarking is thinking.
I too am a landscape.
Knowledge is a gesture
Which all things make.
 
                    - Baron Wormser 


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