Ray: What, did you like give him some Rolling Stone drugs or something?
Reporter: No.
Ray: What the fuck did you do to him?
Reporter: Just asked him what he would be if he wasn’t a Marine.
Ray: Oh my god, he wants to be a ballerina? That’s my fuckin’ dream.Generation Kill 1.05 ¬ A Burning Dog
Photography has lost, or more precisely, changed its value. It’s cheap, it doesn’t retell stories, you can’t count 1000 words. Beauty is stock. Just search by keyword. One photo of a war-torn country is the same as the other. Children are dying in Africa and people still can’t name the country. Iraq and Afghanistan are pretty much the same, right? Deserts and soldiers. Streets are streets are streets. Portraits are just covers for magazines and newspapers. Still life can be captured by an iPhone. Tumblr photo posts trump Helmut Newton. Who needs exhibitions when there’s flickr? Webcam whores. Uncountable self-portraits of girls and women, perpetually out of focus for that oh-so-dreamy look.
In a blog post Amanda Palmer says “i believe in the future of cheap art”
It has to be. That’s the next step in artistic evolution. When everything is available how do you put a price on it? You sell yourself. Because people need it, need their souls captured, need to see something stop and not move.
fetishdesign: frenchmilk: (via thingsthatexciteme)
Gold is the easiest to break. It’s bendy and breakable and golden cages are the easiest to break out of. I can’t abide the bullshit people are trying to sell when they say they’re stuck in a situation. Stuck with family. It’s the easiest situation to get out of, but then you’re on your own. You have to get a job and pay rent and be a fucking adult. No one to wash your clothes and give you free meals and buy you DVDs. Half the time you’ll be forced to do things you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. Work jobs that drain your soul. You don’t always get to sleep comfortably. And while I’ll be the last to encourage people to grow up, because I’ll be a kid at heart forever, I honestly don’t know how people stand it, being talked down to like a child. I didn’t take it as a child and I’m sure as fuck not taking it now.
Maybe I am privileged to see things this way, I have constant support from my family. At least half of it. And I’m lucky enough to be loved by someone that honestly shares my belief that we can achieve anything. But I’ve always been prepared to give up the support of my family if it means going after something I want. (And chances are once I get there they’ll follow, because families are funny and annoying like that.) The truth is it’s much easier to not know what you want, or convince yourself there’s no way to get it. Half the people I know believe that shit, and most of them would have family support to go after something. But it’s a terrifying thought, giving up all those little comforts we’re used to.
It always becomes a thing I can’t imagine not doing. Even if I’m sure I’d suck at it, when he thinks I could I just do.
I know I need to get myself into a yoga class, instruction videos and illustrated poses aren’t real. Without someone to correct my pose, touch my muscles, add variety and talk me through my pace, I might as well be doing cardio.
I want to take a class in nature, I want us to start somewhere between 6 and 7 in the morning. I’d go even earlier. All the classes I’ve found locally are held in gyms, with crappy working hours.
I was just writing to a friend (who isn’t really a friend, but might become) about always keeping your eyes open, that even working diligently towards a goal can be stagnating. Moments after hitting send it occurred to me that keeping your eyes open all the time can be just as damaging. And for the first time in my life I’m looking in a specific direction, while balancing my nature of always making sure I have a way out. I don’t need a way out when I’m happy. I just grow.
boobies!(via hollywoodoverdose)