tramp stamps

fuckin hobo code you guys we need to start using this stuff again (via)

 

on my level

ifuxwiththis.com

portuguese street art

by: Crono Lisboa

beatbox tour of hip hop history. he does method man and busta so siccckkkkkkkkk

happy birthday, beer!

(via)

the canned kind, at least.

the first iterations of canned ale came out 76 years ago today. those little fuckers look tough to get into - eager dipsomaniacs had to punch holes in the top of their tins with church-key openers. what friends we have in pull-tabs, wide-mouths and keg cans!

gonna get me summa this to celebrate.

Future Wizardry

The Family of the Future (minus steel furnishings)

The 1911 Miami Metropolis article starts, "None but a wizard dare raise the curtain and disclose the secrets of the future."  Apparently, Thomas Edison was just the wizard for the job.  T. Alva's choicest predictions for 2011:

• The traveler of the future will fly through the air, swifter than any swallow, at a speed of two hundred miles an hour in colossal machines [off by about 300MPH, but close]
• The baby of the 21st Century will be rocked in a steel cradle; his father will sit in a steel chair; his mother's boudoir will be sumptuously equipped with steel furnishings [HAHAHAHA]
• Books will be printed on leaves of nickel so light that the reader can enjoy a small library in a single volume [you mean like this?]
• We're on the verge of discovering the secret of transmuting metals [Nope]
• In the magical days to come there's no reason why ocean liners shouldn't be made of solid gold from stem to stern; why we shouldn't ride in golden taxicabs, or substitute gold for steel in our drawing room suites. [What? No. Also: y'all had steel in your drawing rooms?]

(more wizardry here)

Poems Like Winter: 5

Lines for Winter

for Ros Krauss

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself—
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon's gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which is nothing
but the tune your bones play
as you keep going. And you will be able
for once to lie down under the small fire
of winter stars.
And if it happens that you cannot
go on or turn back
and you find yourself
where you will be at the end,
tell yourself
in that final flowing of cold through your limbs
that you love what you are.

-Mark Strand

Poems Like Winter: 4

In Winter

At four o’clock it’s dark.

Today, looking out through dusk

at three gray women in stretch slacks   

chatting in front of the post office,   

their steps left and right and back

like some quick folk dance of kindness,   

I remembered the winter we spent   

crying in each other’s laps.

What could you be thinking at this moment?   

How lovely and strange the gangly spines   

of trees against a thickening sky

as you drive from the library

humming off-key? Or are you smiling   

at an idea met in a book

the way you smiled with your whole body   

the first night we talked?

I was so sure my love of you was perfect,   

and the light today

reminded me of the winter you drove home   

each day in the dark at four o’clock   

and would come into my study to kiss me   

despite mistake after mistake after mistake.

-Michael Ryan

Poems Like Winter: 3

Lines for Winter 
 
Poor muse, north wind, or any god
who blusters bleak across the lake
and sows the earth earth-deep with ice.
A hoar of fur stung across the vines:
here the leaves in full flush, here
abandoned to four and farther winds.
Bless us, any god who crabs the apples
and seeds the leaf and needle evergreen.
What whispered catastrophe, winter.
What a long night, beyond the lamplight,
the windows and the frost-ferned glass.
Bless the traveler and the hearth he travels to.
Bless our rough hands, wind-scabbed lips,
bless this our miscreant psalm.

-Dave Lucas

Poems Like Winter: 2

The Snow Fairy

I
Throughout the afternoon I watched them there,
Snow-fairies falling, falling from the sky,
Whirling fantastic in the misty air,
Contending fierce for space supremacy.
And they flew down a mightier force at night,
As though in heaven there was revolt and riot,
And they, frail things had taken panic flight
Down to the calm earth seeking peace and quiet.
I went to bed and rose at early dawn
To see them huddled together in a heap,
Each merged into the other upon the lawn,
Worn out by the sharp struggle, fast asleep.
The sun shone brightly on them half the day,
By night they stealthily had stol’n away.

II
And suddenly my thoughts then turned to you
Who came to me upon a winter’s night,
When snow-sprites round my attic window flew,
Your hair disheveled, eyes aglow with light.
My heart was like the weather when you came,
The wanton winds were blowing loud and long;
But you, with joy and passion all aflame,
You danced and sang a lilting summer song.
I made room for you in my little bed,
Took covers from the closet fresh and warm,
A downful pillow for your scented head,
And lay down with you resting in my arm.
You went with Dawn. You left me ere the day,
The lonely actor of a dreamy play.

-Claude McKay

Poems Like Winter: 1

Burning the Old Year

Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.

So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn’t do
crackle after the blazing dies.

- Naomi Shihab Nye

this is forreal. and forlife.

goddammit gucci mane. don't make me start a nervous breakdown 2011 watch for you

 (via)

the 1940s: they were just like us!

they whipped it real hard!

they got sulky with their friends!

they enjoyed steampunk accessories!

they looked like fucking ghouls at the end of the day!

they took long, aimless drives to escape their parents!

they built motherfuckin DAMS motherfucker!

they got noontime-wasted! they wrestled bears!

they had unrequited crushes on their cousins!

they always hated that bitch who got lead!

they did unspeakable things behind hay bales!
more here!

fashawn fosho

everything about this track is right.
if there's anything better than common on his game, i can't think of it.
the extended nina simone helps too.

if you want beef then bring the ruckus

damn good crowd at wu-tang last night. even ghostface smiled once. might've just been gas, though.

Triumph
Liquid Swords
Da Mystery of Chessboxin'
M.E.T.H.O.D. Man (<3 <3 <3)
Shame on a Nigga
Ice Cream
Protect Ya Neck
Brooklyn Zoo

p.s. and yeah, Old Dirty Bastard has a son.
p.p.s. and yeah, his rap name is Young Dirty Bastard.

the distilled emotional essence of this weekend

This ain't right y'all

Tragic Suicide of Two Youths

 

 

 

To exist one need only let oneself be,
but to live,
one must be someone,
to be someone,
one must have a BONE,
not be afraid to show the bone,
and to lose the meat in the process.

-Antonin Artaud, from To Have Done With the Judgment of God