for those of you asking where you can buy this shirt…
it’s made by @electroblake (he screens them himself) and he will post one to your doorstep from boston. order here:
jherek bischoff, who is standing behind me in this photo, wanted to point out that hipsters do NOT ruin everything, because they make the best espresso.
jherek is, as usual, correct.also, photo by @GeetaDayal
He was popular, smart, good looking enough to attract women, a joker and a writer with enough fame to feed the ego whilst not so much that would distract from the business. He was capable of acts of kindness but his erotic escapades were pretty dismal. Kafka was a creepy womanizer – at thirty he was stalking with the help of Max Brod some sixteen year old he saw one time at Goethe’s house and he built himself an impervious persona who was cruel, calculating and decisively self-serving when dealing with his never-ending erotic interests. …
Kafka writes letters and diaries that make clear that he has only one subject and that is himself as literature. ‘I have no literary interests; I am made of literature. I am nothing else and cannot be anything else.’ Decisive in this identity, Kafka frees himself from ties that bind those with merely an ‘artistic bent.’
Reviewing the new biography Kafka: The Years of Insight, Richard Marshall exposes the celebrated author’s creepiest side yet – which adds a whole new level of creepiness to the notion of Kafka for kids.
my 6-old nephew was trying to get my sister Lisa’s attention from the back of the car while she and I were in the front seat talking about adult shit.
he was like “MOMMM MOMMMMmmmmM” in that irritating voice kids have when they’re not getting any attention.
she finally interrupted our conversation and said “what, ronan?”
at which point he clearly didn’t have an actual question or anything to say…so he just sort of looked into space and settled on
"ummmmm I love you."
"what am I, chopped liver?" I asked from the passenger seat.
"he often just says i love you when he’s about to ask for something" she noted.
"I am NOT" he protested. "I love you."
"I love you too" said Lisa.
I waited. he stared at me.
"it’s okay kid, love takes trust and time. I’ll wait" I said.
he said “amanda?”
"um…I won’t love you until I’m 52."
I thought: that’s Neil’s age.
I said: “that’s totally fine, ronan. I’ll wait. it’s a long time but its fine.”
"how old will you be then?" he asked.
"well, we can do the fun math. you’re 6, and I’m 37. so I’m 31 years older than you. which means when you’re 52, I’ll be…."
"83. and I’ll be 92" said Lisa.
"mom…you… you’re going to be 92?" he asked. he sounded scared.
"yes but not for a long time, ronan." she tried to sound reassuring.
he didn’t look very reassured.
he went sorta quiet after that.
lisa and i went back to talking about houses, life, old boyfriends and more boring adult shit.
about 5 minutes later he talked again.
I turned around “yeah what is it kid?”
"i love you."
THIS IS AMAZING and i don’t know how i missed it even though it has 100k+ hits on youtube. why does nobody tell me these things?
french double-corde/aerial artist masha cerceau performs to “missed me” by the dresden dolls.
1. holy fucking FUCKballs 3:14
2. i love what she did with the reverb/sound-warp at the end
3. ….watching her walk off stage is actually the best part
a beautiful, very feels-like-you-were-there film clip from the the last stop of the ninja parade in wellington the other day, at the garrett street collective…AKA a bunch of kiwis pogo-ing around in a random art loft.
i had never met, nor played with, any of these musicians, they just hopped up and we broke into this song by the clash. not bad!!!!!!!
thanks to the 10 residents of the garrett street collective for letting 200 strangers into their house.
ps i fucking love my life sometimes
“Our mind is like a clear glass of water. If you put salt into the water,
it becomes salt water; sugar, it becomes sugar water; shit it becomes
shit water. But originally the water is clear. No thinking, no mind.
No mind, no problem.”
-Zen Master Seung Sahn