Sun K. Kwak - Untying Space. Vinyl sheet, masking tape, wooden sheet wall (2007-2012)
[via designyoutrust]
(via darksilenceinsuburbia)
Topless Women in Public Not Breaking the Law, Says NYPD
The NYPD has reminded its officers that women are constitutionally allowed to be bare breasted in public.
Listen carefully. Everyone make mistakes. But if you committed a sin, you have to make an atonement for that sin. Atonement, do you know what that means? Big Atonement for big sins. Small Atonement for small sins.
Lee Geum-ja, Lady Vengeance ♥
(Source: jimmyconways)
Explore Lomography Nearby - Chermoshnya, Russian Federation
The doctors tell B.A.D. girls to keep a “mood diary.” They use words like “document,” and “familiarize,” and “monitor.” And “manage.” I sigh: Do I have to? Isn’t this just, like, Twitter? And also impossible? (Ellen Forney in her graphic memoir of bipolarity, Marbles: “How could I keep track of my mind, with my own mind?” She almost doesn’t.) But slowly I learn to follow self-reportage like a script, eschewing a prescription, getting better by pretending to be more here, less here. I’m 25 and 26 and some days I’m fine, “asymptomatic.” Then I’m 27 and those days are fewer, then farther apart, and I dread the day after which no more days are fine.
In I, Mary MacLane, she writes to God and you know a time has come. There’s no more externalized bipolarity than MacLane turning to heaven from the depths of a death-mood, just as, fifteen years earlier, she waited for the Devil on a high.
In that moment, whenhe finally arrives:
It feels as if sparks of fire and ice crystals ran riot in my veins with my blood; as if a thousand pinpoints pierced my flesh, and every other point a point of pleasure, and every other point a point of pain; as if my heart were laid to rest in a bed of velvet and cotton-wool but kept awake by sweet violin arias; as if milk and honey and the blossoms of the cherry flowed into my stomach and then vanished utterly; as if strange, beautiful worlds lay spread out before my eyes, alternately in dazzling light and complete darkness with chaotic rapidity…
This is genius but not mad, only the extremest poesis of manic lust. Even mild upswings make me feel invincible enough to love whoever can hurt me the most, and so, in the summer, I ride on the back of a motorcycle down Mulholland Drive. In the fall I climb onto the unprotected ledge of a hotel looming over the West Side Highway. Come winter I don’t fuck with condoms, and by spring I’m forgetting to not to say I love you.
east of a: somanyamericas
sometime in april in oklahoma listening to the Last Waltz and watching the landscape become a different landscape and I am on the road again cooled ecstatic, the beneath the skin feeling I am cheating death by moving so fast and he knows something is amiss but also beauty is the impression of…
More girls are killed in this routine gendercide in any ONE decade, than people were slaughtered in ALL the genocides of the 20th century.
