A Series of Epiphinettes

30 January, 2010

How Can We Know?

There is no way to really know what people are thinking. Utterly impossible.

It all depends: do you believe them? Do you trust them?

23 January, 2010

Suburbia's Coddled Kids

Found this at Sam Weller's bookstore in Salt Lake City. It looks to be good. The synopsis reads:

"If we were once a melting pot," writes Peter Wyden, "we are no longer. The ingredients in the pot are separating and congealing . . . More and more kids come to know only their neatly manicured, fumeless, comfortably monotonous bedroom communities where there are almost no old people, no poor, no childless, no Negroes, either no Jewish families or many, no sidewalks, no places to explore except by mother-chauffeured car, no houses or incomes too different from those of their parents."

And the best part: This book was published in 1962.

By ~pebble-rebel

This was my final exam peice on Habitat. Really pleased with it. Its gigantic i think its 120cm x 80cm. I used whitewashed some envelopes and old bureaucratic forms. Then individually stencilled over 100 post it notes with two slightly different stencils. I then used bull dog clipped a massive pleace of perspex over it.

All to emulate my idea of loss of identity and being entrapped by large faceless corporations, and also the weak attempts of people to be a bit different. You know how people stick shit like trolls to there compluters and pictures of family to their walls. Its so depressing.

Good find today. (via)

17 January, 2010

16 January, 2010

To be drawn out of doors by the first sign
of rain on the window, to be happier drenched
than dry, to go out in weather
that others come in from, warrants a stare
from passing faces, and i know what it means:
there goes someone with serious problems.
Problems I have, and a nasty stammer to prove it.
But when I run into streets that are shiny,
my love of the downpour doesn't mean
I'm courting sorrow, or getting sick on purpose.
Umbrella weather, though people who flee
seem not to know it, soothes wounds
by making them bigger:
if pain must come, it might as well be
dripping on bricks and blowing through trees
rather than staying in and turning paler.
None of this happens in calmer weather.
To be sobbing in sunlight, groaning on dry land
always leaves me feeling as if
I'm foreign, I'm freakish, I'm out of the loop
until a storm comes and I'm in it again
only deeper now, with a smile no news can ruin.
I throw up a curse and it comes back a blessing;
I look around and my love is pouring
all over the city - crude sighs, small tears
are larger and finer than they first appear
when they come rampaging down, as wind and as rain.

-- Rachel Wetzsteon
(via)

14 January, 2010

Abolishing Adventure

We Can't

"There is no escape. You can't be a vagabond and an artist and still be a solid citizen, a wholesome, upstanding man. You want to get drunk, so you have to accept the hangover. You say yes to the sunlight and your pure fantasies, so you have to say yes to the filth and the nausea. Everything is within you, gold and mud, happiness and pain, the laughter of childhood and the apprehension of death. Say yes to everything, shirk nothing, don't try to lie to yourself."

-- Hermann Hesse, "Wandering"

(via)

12 January, 2010

Recent Music Additions

We Were Here - Joshua Radin

Beautiful acoustic guitar and meaningful lyrics. Good stuff. Special thanks to Sierra for introducing me to his music.