structural clarity
formal and ornamental purity
HP Berlage
every chair every thing everywhere style epitomes
a lifestyle (Adler)
modernizing living (final enclosures?) paving the way for central park. the picturesque wilderness in designated wild zone. “we must see it to save it” doing it for the good, endgames.
paving the way for 3-d grid everywhere.
![“which one are you?”
identifying the self in a bespoke (and spoken for) landscape of cultural affect. [Academic writing as speaking for the page.] Self-speaking as person as flag. For who do you wave, longingly? The flag desires to be some place. The song may be the sound and rhythm of this desire. No, the song is desire.
Also the family as 3-d modeling. We didn’t need the home printer. Mom was? Yuck. the mechanistic understand of the genderbody. My Tumblr is so messed up now. Error reading. At least we had A STYLE in the mess for a moment.
Methods, tools, techniques of home decorating. The body navigates boundaries of song-nation. Ha ha ha. Try doing this at the national border. My passport is expired, decadently. Trained for the mess of time magazines. Harder to make digital messes?
A genderboy in pantsuit. That’s what I wanted to be. But also in blouses. Still rooting to where, I am from OREGON, but trained, fictional, to the lands. A public transport. A suited sport of waving, waving.
The skin as decoration as choice as a “white woman.” As Jewish. Papering over grief as racialized and anger as locating. To understand violence as a white, American self (with components). To say, less clearly, fictions. I am implicated again and turn my eyes to the decor. As a white jewish boy, I could more easily sing to the nation, I fictionalize. This is my only internet not in communication with my ALMA MATER, oh generous mother. Giving the pages and between pages? The wallpaper!
No more ecstatic permission fictions. Switching and splitting sections to more invite the repair. On the ground, ignore the flag, repairing the broken mediated bucket. Getting that good water, painting.](http://www.missamericanpie.co.uk/imgs/dylanbringibackhome.jpg)
“which one are you?”
identifying the self in a bespoke (and spoken for) landscape of cultural affect. [Academic writing as speaking for the page.] Self-speaking as person as flag. For who do you wave, longingly? The flag desires to be some place. The song may be the sound and rhythm of this desire. No, the song is desire.
Also the family as 3-d modeling. We didn’t need the home printer. Mom was? Yuck. the mechanistic understand of the genderbody. My Tumblr is so messed up now. Error reading. At least we had A STYLE in the mess for a moment.
Methods, tools, techniques of home decorating. The body navigates boundaries of song-nation. Ha ha ha. Try doing this at the national border. My passport is expired, decadently. Trained for the mess of time magazines. Harder to make digital messes?
A genderboy in pantsuit. That’s what I wanted to be. But also in blouses. Still rooting to where, I am from OREGON, but trained, fictional, to the lands. A public transport. A suited sport of waving, waving.
The skin as decoration as choice as a “white woman.” As Jewish. Papering over grief as racialized and anger as locating. To understand violence as a white, American self (with components). To say, less clearly, fictions. I am implicated again and turn my eyes to the decor. As a white jewish boy, I could more easily sing to the nation, I fictionalize. This is my only internet not in communication with my ALMA MATER, oh generous mother. Giving the pages and between pages? The wallpaper!
No more ecstatic permission fictions. Switching and splitting sections to more invite the repair. On the ground, ignore the flag, repairing the broken mediated bucket. Getting that good water, painting.
Today (May 9, 2013) is the 66th anniversary of the start of the first Freedom Ride.
It was called the Journey of Reconciliation, and white & black activists rode (otherwise) segregated buses through four southern states.
The interstate bus ride, lasted from April 9-23, and was designed to test the June 3, 1946 Supreme Court ruling that said Black passengers could not be forced to sit at the back of the bus. Bayard Rustin, a 101 Changemaker, participated in and helped to organize the ride. The riders were arrested several times.
There are now more Americans in jail than were in Stalin’s Gulag Archipelago
May 9, 2013There are now more Americans in jail — 6 million — than there were in Stalin’s Gulag, reports Fareed Zakaria, in a column called “Incarceration Nation.”
And it’s not just a relative population thing.
The U.S. has 760 prisoners per 100,000 citizens. How does that compare to other countries?
It’s 7-10X as high:
- Japan has 63 per 100,000,
- Germany has 90 per 100,000
- France has 96 per 100,000
- South Korea has 97 per 100,000
- Britain has 153 per 100,000
And it’s a rapidly exaggerating trend: In 1980, the U.S. only had 150 prisoners per 100,000 citizens. More than half of America’s 6 million prisoners are in jail for drug convictions, with 80% of those in jail for “possession.”
I can feel myself shrinking. I am in Pittsburgh visiting my partner Greg who works in Lead Retrieval for Convention Data Services. I can’t help but feel sucked in to his work. It is so boring and infinitesimally insignificant that somehow it overtakes all other possibilities of grandeur or…
Molly Steadmen | Women
“This project is a series of twenty portraits, each featuring a trans woman who was killed in a hate crime. These murders are usually skimmed over or ignored entirely by the media, and when they are mentioned, the reporting is awful: full of misgendering, transphobia and racism. It is imperative that we recognize the gravity of the dangers trans people, especially trans women, face on a daily basis.”
the work is clear—we need to support these trans women in their fight to end the war on women of all kinds—are we all women or men? humen are we all george clooney? please add your name to the list of people who care.
(via thepeoplesrecord)
TAKE MY PAIN
TAKE MY PAIN
MAKE IT DISAPPEAR PLEASE
(how can we help repair?) when I can’t even keep a lover?
Jk—this is harsh n real
where?
oh my………….
(Source: theshallowdepths)
