Cuz, like, obviously. The smooth disco loops and Pharrell-as-lounge-singer work so well on this groove. Daft Punk 'Get Lucky' occupies the sweet spot between new never heard before, hot hot right now, and classic Daft Punk sheen. Looping on infinity, face turned to summer.
“I think you should learn, of course, and some days you must learn a great deal. But you should also have days when you allow what is already in you to swell up inside of you until it touches everything. And you can feel it inside you. If you never take time out to let that happen, then you just accumulate facts, and they begin to rattle around inside of you. You can make noise with them, but never really feel anything with them. It’s hollow.” — E.L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler It's impossible to overstate how much this woman's books meant to me as a child. She taught me that it's okay to be a know-it-all, but that it's better to have curiosity and a big heart. From her I learned of the mysterious allure of Tallulah Bankhead, the ferocity of Eleanor of Aquitaine, and how friendships can have a power over you almost like witchcraft. Kongisburg died this weekend, but in a slightly cheesy, very real way, her words will live in me for a long time.
Bradley Campbell draws the structure of NPR radio shows on napkins. Perhaps because they're aural, I'd never thought of radio shows as having concrete narrative structures in the same way that novels or essays do. Now I feel both a bit sheepish and totally enchanted. (via)
First, this dude gives an amazing speech that ends in describing the 'big gay rainbow' arcing over his electorate. Then, once the bill is passed, the entire New Zealand Parliament breaks into spontaneous song. According to the Slog Blog, they're singing 'Pokarekare Ana', a Maori love song that's become something of an unofficial national anthem. Love forever, y'all.
By turns dorky and majestic as hell, this feels like the triumphant climax of an awkward kid's coming of age story. Words cannot express how fitting his choice of soundtrack is, an orchestral cover of Paint It Black.
University of Chicago's Special Collections Department has some advice on how to care for your home library. Fantastic ideas, truly, but a bit unrealistic. They ask you not to drink tea while reading, or really to eat any food at all. But literature and hot liquid things are one of nature's greatest pairings! I mean, honestly!
This amazing fact was revealed when I opened my email this morning and found the first of April's many delightful poems sent by pretty-word purveyor 'april is', which i will exhort you, for the third year in a row, to subscribe to.
Unconvinced? Here's what we're starting off with this year:
Nan Hardwicke Turns Into a Hare I will tell you how it was. I slipped into the hare like a nude foot into a glorious slipper. Pushing her bones to one side to make room for my shape so I could settle myself like a child within her. In the dark I groped for her freedom, gently teasing it apart across my fingers to web across my palm. Here is where our separation ends: I tensed her legs with my arms, pushed my rhythm down the stepping-stones of spine. An odd feeling this, to hold another’s soul in the mouth like an egg; the aching jaw around her delicate self. Her mind was simple, full of open space and weather. I warmed myself on her frantic pulse and felt the draw of gorse and grass, the distant slate line at the edge of the moor. The air span diamonds our of sea fret to catch across my tawny coat as I began to fold the earth beneath my feet and fly across the heath, the heather. -Wendy Pratt You guys. Animorph poetry FTW.