The Hollow Men

:::this is the way the world ends:::

Page 2 of 33

Sigur Ros

sigurros1

The latest Sigur Ros album has really grown on me, especially this track and the first one. I guess they have another album coming out in a few months. But this one is fine by me.

Commencing Countdown, Engines On

One of my favorite Bowie songs, made into a video that would have blown my 80’s MTV-watchin’ mind away.

Then and Now

Hilarious and nostalgic at the same time…a couple of these are mildly NSFW.

Then-and-Now

Triplet Training Wheels…for the Bed

We took off the side of the triplets’ beds, and they were falling out.  I actually improvised one solution similar to this, with rolled up blankets tucked into the sheets and the top of the railings.  However, with summer coming on, and pool supplies populating the shelves of the store, I might have to do this.  Lots of good visual tips in this list!

Using-This-One

If you hadn’t noticed

Beauty-in-the-Cosmos

the universe is a beautiful place.

(This is not a woman with a foot for a hand)

A list from Buzzfeed illuminates how the brain makes sense of visual information.

Foot-for-Hand

Pale Green Ghosts

Another streaming album I discovered yesterday by John Grant, and haven’t listened to more than once.  However, what I heard makes me want to listen to it more.  It’s got complexities and textures to the songs…I found myself being won over by songs I didn’t think I liked at first by the end of the last notes.

I thought I shouldn’t be afraid to talk about it, as there are lots of people in my situation, who feel like outcasts in society, people who had addiction problems, who feel ashamed and unlovable because of it,” Grant said in a recent press release. “I want these people to know they have someone on a stage who is dealing with this too.

Let me know what you think about this, and I’ll try to add my own thoughts after I’ve had a chance to give it a listen.

John-Grant

American Kid

OB-XH025_griffi_CV_20130430065712

I’ve included her on some of the Memorial Day albums in the past, but Patty Griffin has a new album out today.  I found a link to a streaming version of it, and wanted to share it with you all.  Her songs grow on me — she’s the best type of songwriter in that her songs aren’t a “one-listen and discard” type.  It takes some long, attentive listens and road trips across Kansas to really become embedded in my life experience, giving a voice to bunch of emotions I didn’t even know I had until her songs came along.

Hope you enjoy this….

Moby Dick, or the card game

cardgame

I’ve been haunting Kick Start for the last couple of months and I caught wind of this today. I’ve never been much for roll play games but I might give this one a try. Though I can’t think of who I would play it with save for you clowns.

I’m glad to see they’ve made their goal already.

This Hit Me of Late

One_More_Step,_Mr__Hands

In the Attic by Seamus Heaney

1.

Like Jim Hawkins aloft in the crosstrees

Of Hispaniola, nothing underneath him

But still green water and clean bottom sand,

The ship aground, the canted mast far out

Above a seafloor where striped fish pass in shoals—

And when they’ve passed, the face of Israel Hands

That rose in the shrouds before Jim shot him dead

Appears to rise again . . . “But he was dead enough,”

The story says, “being both shot and drowned.”

2.

A birch tree planted twenty years ago

Comes between the Irish Sea and me

At the attic skylight, a man marooned

In his own loft, a boy

Shipshaped in the crow’s nest of a life,

Airbrushed to and fro, wind-drunk, braced

By all that’s thrumming up from keel to masthead,

Rubbing his eyes to believe them and this most

Buoyant, billowy, topgallant birch.

3.

Ghost-footing what was then the terra firma

Of hallway linoleum, Grandfather now appears

Above me just back from the matinée,

His voice awaver like the draft-prone screen

They’d set up in the Club Rooms earlier.

“And Isaac Hands,” he asks, “was Isaac in it?”

His memory of the name awaver, too,

His mistake perpetual, once and for all,

Like the single splash when Israel’s body fell.

4.

As I age and blank on names,

As my uncertainty on stairs

Is more and more the light-headedness

Of a cabin boy’s first time on the rigging,

As the memorable bottoms out

Into the irretrievable,

It’s not that I can’t imagine still

That slight untoward rupture and world-tilt

As a wind freshened and the anchor weighed.

Illustration

ThomTenery_GethenRising

I was showing a student this artist’s work today to talk about atmospheric perspective, and it occurred to me that Toby and others might enjoy it.

Lock, Stock and Pickpocket

Pickpocketing

Another interesting article from the New Yorker.  It’s really amazing how good one can get, almost to the point of it being magical, when you solely focus on one skill for your entire life.

And here’s a video of his talent on display:

You Existing As You

What are the chances of you coming into being?

Let’s Evoke, Not Provoke

As I’ve been sharing things on the blog, I’ve wondered why I’ve kept things unserious after all the pressures, concerns, and nightmares of the past week.  Perhaps I need a place for respite from the typical news flow across the internet.  I felt I’ve needed evocation, rather than provocation.

Here’s a series of photos that evokes something inextricably Kansas out of me, and thought I’d share.

s_n20_75759100

 

Just Because I Love It

I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
And a few lilies blow.
And I have asked to be
Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.

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