what is was then

Berlin highlights:

this friday:

Invisible Oranges: The new album is called Absolute Dissent. In a world where about two percent of the population controls half of the wealth and thus the power associated with it, is real dissent even possible?
Jaz Coleman of Killing Joke: I think so, and I think it comes down to education in the end. We invariably create elites when only about one percent of the population understands the complex issues of the day. Look at the American electorate with the tea baggers and [Sarah] Palin. When it comes to foreign policy, many of these people aren't very informed. I believe in personal politics. I don't really participate in actual politics. Civil liberties are very dear to me, something we must not relinquish. That's the responsibility of every citizen, to ensure that civil liberties are maintained in a free and democratic system. Basically, what I'm trying to say is we are shaping the future. We all have to participate in finding solutions.

they won't be playing the song in this video, but i'm still going and i'm still going to get people to build a human Stonehenge and wear face paint and minimal clothing and at least get the fire department called.

in my house

"it was not merely the curious customs that stimulated our imaginations: there was an indefinable atmosphere about the place and the people which left us at a loss.  the mixture of simplicity and elegance was in itself bizarre but still more so was the combination of absolute personal liberty with what was evidently in some ways a rather severe discipline."

i've often thought that i'd like someone to look into the windows of my world and have this to say about it.

set in motion

boarding the birthday train one month in advance.  i don't want to say this too loudly, but i've always REALLY wanted to be 32 (actually, i want to be 33 more; i love odd numbers, the number three in particular so the double dose is like a cosmic tickle to me).   32 has long seemed like a sacred or pivotal age to me, in much the way that "they" say that 27 is sacred or pivotal.  read: a point along the life line where "what the fuck am i doing with myself" moments seem to coagulate.  i love that stuff.  i kind of want to be a disaster for a few more minutes and blast out of the ashes as a mentally gilded Phoenix. it's just the way my life has been charted thus far: dip, spring, dive, rebound, MANIA.  though the gap between  those erratics is starting to mellow.  and that's what you call growing up i guess.  that being said... i don't have any expectations for this year, but i do have urges to do and be and go like i haven't felt in a long, long time.  if i can quiet the contentions from Stability and Finance, i could be headed to some new and fascinating places. 

anyway, i went to San Fransisco for the first time to visit Jason/Juicebox and, like i said, kick the 808 birthday-state into action.  i was gifted a copy of Forced Exposure by the aforementioned genius with features on some minimally influential bands/people!!  i hesitate referring to a zine written largely by Albini as precious, but yeah that's exactly what it is. i think i read the whole thing on the plane back home and more on this issue in the future and more on the tragedy that few folks write with enough witty vitriol anymore.

but before that, we ate 3 courses of vegan swanky decadence at Millennium, after spending the day toying around San Francisco (a whole lot more on that later):

lucky lightning striking down.

let it go

couple days and i'll reach one month of no sugar, no dairy, no wheat, no eggs, no caffeine, no alcohol. this freakish restrictive diet allows me to freakishly recount every infringement which would include a margarita, about five beers, two cocktails and some pancakes that i thought were all buckwheat but they were cut with wheat flour. have to say i feel great. this was doctor suggested; mostly because i've willy nilly cut these things out with no real structure for the last three years and we figured, fuck, let's just do it all and do it all for four weeks and see how my body reacts. two observations off the bat: one, pooping with regularity and with productivity is one of life's lovely simple pleasures and two, waking up and not having to take five minutes to gauge my hangover makes my mornings spring like a super bounce ball. thanks goodness i like to cook and i like to cook healthy and balanced because it made this so easy. i don't know how mcdonald's-a-day types could ever back out of that relationship, especially since "kale" or "flax" are concepts that have probably never fallen from their lips, much less passed through their ears. how depressing.

anyway, here's some multi-faceted celebratory jams. you've got flailing, passive moshing, two of the best beats europe has ever produced, and style so thick i could've spread it on my gluten-free toast this morning.

swingin through the leaves

pretty sure my computer has let out the death rattle but i'll let a skilled technician (my sister's co-worker's thrash relic husband and his couch workshop) take a look before i give a eulogy. so as it stands i've got 2000 plus photos and thoughts from my trip to europe in a holding pattern that feels like it's taken on some kind of physical weight and is "holding" in my chest. i think my friends would understand, that bowl of vegan goulash soup that i ate in Budapest was really emotional and needs an entry on it's own, so you can image the burden felt from seeing/feeling things like, ummuhh, Holocaust memorials, churches decorated with the bones of 40,000 people, the faces of home made friends far from home, and the fog blanketed German countryside by train car with the sun waking up (as i refuse to sleep). my heartstrings are fixin' to snap from this weight is what i'm saying. and it just keeps getting better, strangely as i battle one of the darkest times i've ever known. but i guess it's easier to recover from a period of numbness when you're surrounded by so much greatness, though i know this is all on me (que "Love Will Save You"* from SWANS please). i feel ambition and curiousity coming back and manifesting themselves through things like the desire for contact/voices, being at ease with vulnerability and a case of adult-onset teenage lust. so many beautiful things to brush up against. i just with i had the pictures to go along with them!

*

Love will save you when the ocean splits itself in two

Love will save you when the cold wind blows right through you

Love will save you when the poison eats the precious air

And love will save you from the snake that crawls around down there

But it won't save me

Love will save you from the evil and the greed of ignorant men

And love will save you from the guilt you feel when you betray your only friend

Love will save you from yourself when you lose control

And love will save you from all the lies your lover told you

But it won't save me

Love will save you from the truth when you think you're free

Love will save you from the cold light of boring reality

Love will save you from the corruption of your lazy-minded soul

And love will save you from your selfish and distorted goalsBut it won't save me

Love will save you from the black night and the lightning and the ghost

Love will save you from your misery, then tie you to the bloody post

Love will save you from the hands that pull you down beneath the sea

Love may save all you people, but it will never, never save me

No it won't save me

celebrating Stevie Nicks

apologies to the four people that read this blog, i'll be depositing a lot of bookmarked "things to do" for my trip coming up in September. exciting to me, maybe not so much to you.

i think i'm reserving one day to walk north from the first hostel i'm staying at in Prague (first part of the solo leg) to check out the DOX museum and the surrounding area. particularly excited about this exhibit. a vaulted space draped with 12,000 silk dresses. it looks like an ice castle if you squint!!

http://www.doxprague.org/en/exhibition?34/about

‘wasted’ is an international art project that challenges the transience of the feminine virtue to give birth; to ideas, creations and not the least; to children. What is the energy that is arises when you are touched by an artwork, by beauty or by meeting people? How to capture this energy and transform it in a new creation or thought?
The installation is a universe of 12.000 white silk dresses that has a spiritual value of a temple or a cathedral. The adventurous routing through the silk labyrinth embraces you and overwhelms with an incredible aesthetic power.

hot finds: the Vanilla Awakening

i can't wait to read this book. period. not because i'm looking for answers, (not because i'm jaded as i could have (SHOULDA) written the thing myself), not because in terms of collective enlightenment it's potentially the Joy of Sex for Generation whatever the hell generation it is now, but maybe because it IS the Joy of Sex for this generation??? because: someone finally spelled out in Border's-ready, and what i assume will soon be Oprah Book Club approved "my DAD read that book!" connectivity...a book that lays out the long known truth that WE ARE ANIMALS. so what does that mean? in terms of monogamy, it means monogamy is possible, but is it natural? no.


http://www.amazon.com/Sex-Dawn-Prehistoric-Origins-Sexuality/dp/0061707805/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

Since Darwin's day, we've been told that sexual monogamy comes naturally to our species. Mainstream science--as well as religious and cultural institutions--has maintained that men and women evolved in families in which a man's possessions and protection were exchanged for a woman's fertility and fidelity. But this narrative is collapsing. (About fucking time y'all) Fewer and fewer couples are getting married, and divorce rates keep climbing as adultery and flagging libido drag down even seemingly solid marriages.
How can reality be reconciled with the accepted narrative? It can't be, according to renegade thinkers Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá. While debunking almost everything we "know" about sex, they offer a bold alternative explanation in this provocative and brilliant book.
Ryan and Jethá's central contention is that human beings evolved in egalitarian groups that shared food, child care, and, often, sexual partners. Weaving together convergent, frequently overlooked evidence from anthropology, archaeology, primatology, anatomy, and psychosexuality, the authors show how far from human nature monogamy really is. Human beings everywhere and in every era have confronted the same familiar, intimate situations in surprisingly different ways. The authors expose the ancient roots of human sexuality while pointing toward a more optimistic future illuminated by our innate capacities for love, cooperation, and generosity.
With intelligence, humor, and wonder, Ryan and Jethá show how our promiscuous past haunts our struggles over monogamy, sexual orientation, and family dynamics. They explore why long-term fidelity can be so difficult for so many; why sexual passion tends to fade even as love deepens; why many middle-aged men risk everything for transient affairs with younger women; why homosexuality persists in the face of standard evolutionary logic; and what the human body reveals about the prehistoric origins of modern sexuality.
In the tradition of the best historical and scientific writing, Sex at Dawn unapologetically upends unwarranted assumptions and unfounded conclusions while offering a revolutionary understanding of why we live and love as we do.

blender head

using eyes and ears 3x more than the mouth (or the mouth of the brain) right now. much needed vacation. and touch aka flesh is in conflict right now. sitting. quiet. listening and breathing.

time machine worthy

this...



and more importantly, this....



there is not one smidgen of the existence, the total package that is Voivod that i don't find love and fascination for. possibly the most perfect band the world's (or at least my world's) ever known?

while i'm there

finally got this 12".
unpacked pretty much all of my apartment listening to this song/cover alone.
(second to last time i saw Spectrum he said, "this is a Mudhoney song" and broke into this)

regrets

hurst, jen and i went to MIL Park to watch Caribou the other night. ate a bunch of cherries, cheese and wine under some teaser storm clouds and watched 300 of the 3000 people there form synced congo-rave lines and try to rush the stage. couldn't stop staring at the guy in front of me though, wearing the Spectrum shirt i kick myself for not getting:

so that whipped up a nagging thought to go home and listen to the original as soon as i walked in the door. buuuut i have no turntable at the moment (will change today). so here's the less thrilling substitution:

in the year my father was born

i had a consuming daydream at work today that involved very precise wounds that bled white which made me think of this video. but my daydream felt very related to death, lifelessness and the Anger piece, at three minutes and fifty-six seconds to be exact, has always struck me as a strong testament to vitality. all that liquid, harnessing all that energy; life just streaming out.

hot finds: Dear "the South", just put it to bed already?

m'dawgs

< two months

paris
berlin
notts
london
amsterdamn
berlin again
prague
budapest
paris again
home

or something like that.

my heart hurts.

"a man of pleasure is a man of pains"

i'm so anxious to get out of this apartment; this super spacious, highly functional, fairly affordable, very adorable apartment. even an environment this ideal can't distract from how rotten this year has been. i often purposefully revisit old haunts around this city with an endearing fondness, but i don't think my head will even turn when i drive past this guy in the future. turning point... i've broken up with nostalgia; a phenomenon that once gave me wings now feels like dead weight and it's more than invigorating to say and feel that. the scale of Pleasure vs. Pain tips once again.

speaking of P vs. P...finally got a hold of the Jane's Addiction/Perry Farrell biography and i've been digesting a bit before bed every night.

http://www.amazon.com/Whores-Biography-Perry-Farrell-Addiction/dp/0306814781/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1277403188&sr=8-1

I'm really gonna miss this bedroom but my island bed is still my island bed no matter where it ends up.

cosmic clipboard

...you see the cracks in the facades as opportunities; inspiration erupts as you careen over bumps in the road; you love the enticing magic that flows from situations that other people regard as rough or crooked. "That which is not slightly distorted lacks sensible appeal," wrote poet Charles Baudelaire, "from which it follows that irregularity -- that is to say, the unexpected, surprise and astonishment -- is an essential part and characteristic of beauty."

hey, hey what can i do?

pairs well with a bike ride and some off the chain black cherry gelatto on a swampy night like tonight.

soundtrack

two perfect records today that melted into the background while i was working...

Adderulz

started the day with a bike ride in the hot sun with three layers of last night's clothes on. got home and wrote myself an inspirational piece:

"gotta work today. if you wanna get to where you wanna go--gotta work"

camped in front of the computer for 6 hours editing photos from a shoot for Etsy with long-time pal J. Dahms and listed a massive 16 items and managed to layer on about two hours of phone convo. god i love legal amphetamines! and i love that i can count on this super babe...

silver lining

this bike accident i was involved in is gonna be quite a headache in the days (err, years) to come. i'll probably be screwed. at least my lawyer, who i have yet to meet, sounds exactly like Rollins in this video when i talk to him on the phone. first time we spoke i kept wanting to ask him if he thought dating was futile or if he would be offended to have me as a client since some days i'll take a bottle of wine over a 3 mile run.

"the Jimmy Buffet of electronica"

Manual- Drowned in Light. this will be the soundtrack to your summer BBQ, particularly at that point when everyone is sufficiently drunk and needs an afternoon group nap before round two. i love these guys.

new york, i'll be seeing you.

life is bubbling right now, it's reacting. alchemy is at the controls and as the elements mingle and creations come forth they are saying that the old is the new is the old is the...in a constant rolling boil where one second you're at the top and the next you're submerged. and i'm dizzy and disoriented, both physically and via a spirit that's struck giddy by it all.

my best friend has moved half-way across this ginormous county to NYC. i want to get on that saddle. not so much to that place, but so much to SOME PLACE because my time has been spent, my wheels are in a proverbial spin in these places that i've been for a long, long time. is it the first-world-problems, narcissistic fortunate daughter in me that can't EVER be content? i don't know. all i know is that i'm in a position where movement and fluidity are at my hip-side so long as i take their hand. i feel lucky with that, but some days i feel alone. here are two people who have made me feel less alone:

i didn't meet Taylor until i was about 20, she dated my "then friend/future boyfriend" in the past and we had mutual friends and she was very nice to me at the record store where she worked (i think this is because i had blue-black suicide hair and she was fresh from a stint in San Diego and this was the late 90's and all. white belts and Drive Like Jehu and Swing Kids really brought people together). but she is my living proof that souls dictate this shit more than any culture, sub-culture, upbringing, whadda whadda ever could. she was raised in a Chicago high rise by he sweetest mom, saw Rev. Co. vids filmed under her nose off Michigan Ave. i was raised nestled between a corn field and a wheat field with good public radio and a tiny gang of skaters feeding me with era-relevancy. it's a beautiful things when chance spins two people out into a relationship that thrives on life-relevancy and you end up with memories like...

coaxing a dude into driving us in a convertible with the top down to the middle of nowhere Wisconsin to watch a meteor shower in a dew soaked field on a Mexican blanket at two in the morning on a school night.

coaxing one of the best yet most hated bands (i.e. "banned" from Chicago in some real neo-fascist b.s.) to play a secret basement show in Pilsen for a handful of people only to get their van window smashed out. at least we took full, drunken advantage of the hills next to the house.

driving from Chicago to Austin to celebrate New Year's anywhere but Chicago and getting sufficiently wowed by the King's house in Memphis along the way,

and sufficiently stuffed on breakfast tacos and Lone Star in Austin while picking up (stealing) souvenir ponchos,

and watching 2008 turn to 2009 fireside, under the stars, alongside face tattooed train punks that you could tolerate for a moment because you're happy is hell with vacation brains.

spending a memorial day afternoon with events so memorable that the memories will forever eclipse and change the true meaning of memorial day. like, literally pants pissing hilarious fun with these guys (and Steely Dan and Ned's Atomic Dustbin).

spending five nights in a desert house in the middle of the Mojave and going on "back yard" adventures that include jousting burnt out vehicles on shrooms,

and having mid-day face paint parties to honor true native americans and the british equivalent of them, Mr. Adam Ant. praise ye, savages.

i mean, it goes on an on and i feel kinda like a turd for allowing the internet a glimpse as big as this in the first place into something that it's not really privy to. bottom line, i'll miss my girl and i'm eternally stoked to have a friends that's as down to live as i am and now i have reason number one to visit NYC.

reason number two is to visit my childhood friend Billy Scott that i've reconnected with briefly and primarily under grim circumstances and now through the facebook machine. Billy's best friend and my first love, Chris Howk, died last november at the age of 32. Chris started seeding women in the early 90's and left three blood children and one step daughter and a widow. his first child came shortly after chris and i stopped seeing eachother. his name is Christian Perry (nod to Mr. Farrell) and his mom is a woman named Heather that used to wanna kill me over the dude. they split and a few years later chris started a family with his new wife, had two children and took in one of his wife's kids from a former situation as his own.

some backstory on his footing in my life...

Chris moved to my town in the fall of 1991. i was in 7th grade, he was in 8th, shoulda been in 9th. i'd had this crush of sorts on skaters since my cousin and his friends rode that fashionable wave back in '87 and my little guy friends half-ass followed it in the years between. then Chris shows up. forget the hair and the clothes that got you sent home from school, he was a mysterious, wild and free animal that fourth dimensioned my ass within minutes. he was a novelty to the kids in school, but he was the realest motherfucker i'd ever seen. i'm pretty sure we finally struck up our first conversation because he was running through the hall between class singing "Institutionalized" and i laughed, saying that i'd heard that song on 21 Jump Street and really liked it. phone numbers were exchanged, conversations that lasted into the morning hours started up (hiding in my closet to muffle the voices) and so began the most endearing realationship i've ever known, 18 years ago. i don't think i could articulate then the heaviness or uniqueness of my bond with him, still don't know if i can, even with time and perspective on my side, but it's set the bar in a postion where i can't EVER compromise what could be for a weak illusion of companionship just to "have someone" (sorry, this is my interpretation of most relationships 75% of the time). central to that bond was an immediacy and urgency to live hard and the pain of knowing that we existed in a world that battled against us when we tried to do so, a world that championed the mundane and unimportant. so we made our own.

in truth, chris was kind of a bad dude. he was a textbook broken home kid and never had anyone to go to bat for him. though i realize now that his step dad and his step dad's wife, who chris lived with, really tried to lift him up. he was a pretty hyper-sexed guy and thereby unfaithful and thereby the boy who stole my cookies, "Classic Girl" playing in the background chipping away at my hesitation as the song went on. he "borrowed" $60 of my eighth grade graduation money to buy skate shoes which actually meant weed and/or acid. but it didn't matter when i was sneaking out to make out in the woods behind his house under the watchful eye of a full moon, or ditching conformation class to hang out in the park while he skated just so i could steal sweaty kisses and stare a bunch and write Cure lyrics on my shoes. it certainly didn't matter when he showed up at my house with a hug for my mother and the most stunning flowers i've ever been given or when he met me after school, eager to show me his stick n' poke lip tattoo saying "SARA".

fast forward to the days after thanksgiving 2009 and i get a call from my mother telling me that she was cruising the obits and found his. i couldn't breath. later that night i made some phone calls, eventually got ahold of Bill's number and was told that Chris was arrested after he and his wife got in a fight, went to jail while strung out and hung himself in his cell. i should've mentioned that the impulse to live big also drove chris to live beyond and he was more or less an addict for most of his life. (i ran into him one day when i was about 17 and had a quick conversation in the park. i got home, a collect call came in and it was him. he told me that hurting me was the biggest regret he carried and that he understood why i was always on his case about drugs, because i loved him, and he wanted me to know that i never did anything wrong and if he could do it all over again he would be sure that i'd never feel as if i did.) so i called into work, rented a car, drove 5.5 hours downstate and went to his funeral in my hometown. i was met in the parking lot by Heather, the ex that wanted to kill me, and their son with hugs and a new reality that quickly squashed any teenage competition as if it never existed. i was introduced to his 15 year old son as "your dad's first love", then introduced to the daughter that he adopted from his wife's previous relationship. she said, with a quickness, "i know you. he talked about you all the time. you talked on the phone for hours....you have bitchin' hair".

i reconnected with his step mom. she got me up to speed on the past few years, how he was deeply depressed and struggling to find happiness. as i was leaving, i caught the eye of his wife and feeling obliged to give her a hug and sympathy, i did so while she pulled me close and in my ear reminded me that he loved me tremendously and that i was very important to him. "i know all the stories," she said.

i also reconnected with billy. i noticed that he had an album on FB of photos of Chris so i sent him some contributions, but this was my favorite from the collection already up there, probably from around 95 with his first son:

i told Bill "for a creature that had like a thousand illuminated features, his arms always killed me the most" and expressed that it was so rad to witness the depth of their friendship. so reason number two to visit follows from this: "Just to let you know, I talked to him this morning and he says I should write you and tell you he loves you and misses you. I have a big skate spot for him that I go by ever day and say hi. it's called Columbus Circle. When you come to New York give me a call".

@ 12:05 a.m.

i'm buying tickets to see something i never thought i'd see. reformed SWANS, give or take a few members.

in the meantime, listening to the most perfect song about the kind of love that levitates above the earthly dirge.

***don't watch the unrelated video, shots from the joy division movie. jussss listen.

can't shake it.

Feeling the urge to shave my head again.

at the witching hour

on my...

i've reached that point

somehow felt too much that i can't feel anymore. desensitization via oversensitization?

this is usually the point where folks do unfortunate things.

hot finds: flea market. NO TALKING, JUST LOOKING VERSION

PHIL???

WEDNESDAY

torn torn torn

since i lost hard at my ebay auction for a promo Ice Cube Predator shirt, i'm soothing the material urge with one of these two beauties. but which one???

i'm narrowing down a cultivated steez to Sagittarius arrow honor and early 90's hip hop honor. the world needs to know, without having to ask, that this is what i'm about!

aaaaaaaaaaand THIS

Traits of a Sagittarius:

* Fun
* Optimist
* Good-natured
* Sociable
* Spiritual
* Impatient
* Fears responsibility
* Self-indulgence
* Fanaticism
* Peter Pan syndrome
* Tendency to gamble

Likes...

* Freedom
* Unusual ideas
* Being on the move
* Parties
* Luxury items
* Gambling
* New friends
* Flirting

Dislikes...

* Public disapproval
* Playing safe
* Confinement
* Monotony
* Tight clothes/areas
* Being doubted
* Being refused

or some approximation of that. emphasis on FREEDOM. i actually like tight ass jeans.

couldn't dent it if you tried

a weekend spent with my best people oscillating lightly between the realms of real talk and carefree fun land somehow brings me to listen to this song, off dad's copy, over and over again.

the warm-up

first Sox game of the season. a 12-0 SPANK delivered by Tampa Bay?? we managed 4 innings in the cold and decided to make our way inside and chilled around the bar. the indoor portion of the 300 level at Sox Park is like a weird airport food court mated with a Radison conference room. and it's warm.

Jeff buried in a chair.
I'm hammered and sitting on the floor.

so many people drunk out of disappointment at this moment.

i think he's about to mosh. we are notorious for moshing the drunk out.

furiously celebrating the view of the city.

post game sac of fries for me, sac of future vomit for JJ.

Jeff lives within walking distance/a perfect bar crawl of the stadium. do you know how great it is to walk into a bar with Stevie Wonder and the best classic soul blasting, everyone in Sox gear and the assurance that your shots will get cheaper as long as you keep singing along?

the nurse says she's crowning,

give it a push Ma Nature!!!

Don't think about it
Well all you've got to do is, do it
Well don't talk about it
All you do is do it, do it
Don't lie about it
Do it, do it
Write about it honey
Then we'll just do it
Yeah,do do do do do do do do do do do it
Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it
You all just do it
Don't sing about it
If you ain't gonna, do it
Don't write about it man
If you ain't gonna, do it
Rock and roll
And the message is, do it
You're gonna rip me off man
You blew it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it
Do it yeah

channeling Cindy Sherman

The Pink Hotel

before i left for the motherland last weekend, i came across two glistening reviews of a film that was having a one time run on the night i set out for home. i considered staying the night and leaving at dawn the next day but that never works out as nicely as it does in my mind. it's called The Pink Hotel, an homage to the beacon of Edgewater; a monument to decadence, to Chicago architecture and to absurd choices of paint. here's the trailer and another related snippet:

this is pulled from the Newcity write up where i first learned of the movie. i've made bold the points where drool plopped down from my mouth to the paper....

The storytelling itself, however, holds sinister desire. There’s a touch of micro-budget von Sternberg (minus Dietrich) meets Guy Maddin with bits of David Lynch-like weirdness. “Fair enough! I’m certainly a Lynch enthusiast. Guy is actually a friend, and we’ll be working together on his new film in Winnipeg next month. He and I have been correspondents and friends for several years, so we do a lot of looking at one another’s work. Of course I’m utterly smitten with what he does. I also watch a lot of early sound and silent pictures, the directness of process and the sheer enthusiasm about the newness of cinema is really something special. I’m also very fond of the Quay Brothers, Joseph Cornell’s films, the early Dada and Surrealist experiments in pictures, Roy Andersson’s lovely work and harbor an almost unconditional love for any horror movie at all. The older the better, I suppose, but I’m not that picky.”

i'm probably leaving this neighborhood in a few months but i'm thankful that this stood as my visual reminder that i was almost home.

http://www.theoperatedeye.com/ (official website, Tony Fitzpatrick endorsed. does the drool worthiness ever stop?)