res ipsa fuhgeddaboutit

"It isn’t the things that are happening to us that cause us to suffer, it’s what we say to ourselves..."

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:25:06 -0500

“It isn’t the things that are happening to us that cause us to suffer, it’s what we say to ourselves about the things that are happening.”

- Pema Chodron (via psychotherapy) (via villagevegan) (via katespencer) (via frankhejl)

bridgecomedy: healywu: tanya77: 50 Famous Faces From Second...

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:22:24 -0500

bridgecomedy:

healywu:

tanya77:

50 Famous Faces From Second City.

Oh, and our FM78 partner, Peter Murrieta.

John Candy started improvising when he was like 16 or 17.

Auto Candy reblog

Indeed.

larhunter: somuchfunithurts: sherrypop: David Bowie and Bing...

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:21:58 -0500

larhunter:

somuchfunithurts:

sherrypop:

David Bowie and Bing Crosby -Peace on Earth/ Little Drummer Boy

This is one of my favorite clips ever. From Bing Crosby’s 1977 Christmas Special. According to legend, Crosby wasn’t too thrilled about having Bowie on his show. But this duet won him over.

One of the best duets of all time.

And I love the banter. ”Well, right or wrong, I sing either way.”

zachlinder: Four nights left. Designed by Cheryl Berkowitz.

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:20:47 -0500

zachlinder:

Four nights left.

Designed by Cheryl Berkowitz.

purns: My friend Mikki asked my pal and noted feminist Ruby what...

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:19:04 -0500

purns:

My friend Mikki asked my pal and noted feminist Ruby what she thought the big feminist moments of 2009 were for a story she’s putting together.
Ruby:

well ill just say that the chris and rihanna thing was dumb.feminism means girls are the same as boys so if you want my advice i would say in that book that i quote “boys listen you think your tuffer than girls.Tip,YOUR NOT,i have beaten up 3 of you and im not afraid to beat up more.just because you used to be tough (the old times girls would be house wives and they would hunt and play sports) and girls couldnt be,now things are different.so my advice for boys,SHUTUP.my advice for girls, take a stand there is know such thing as unfeminin of girly-girl.tell the boys as i said to shutup and learn EQUAL RIGHTS.”

L’Équipe: Boot Camp

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:16:37 -0500

L’Équipe: Boot Camp

RuPaul’s Drag Race S2: Meet the Ladies Hooray!

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:15:25 -0500

RuPaul’s Drag Race S2: Meet the Ladies

Hooray!

Coming To Nevada Brothels In 2010: Male Prostitutes - The...

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:12:48 -0500

Coming To Nevada Brothels In 2010: Male Prostitutes - The Consumerist

Big Hot Dog Infomercial (via danielabbate)

Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:02:10 -0500

Big Hot Dog Infomercial (via danielabbate)

Maybe It Just Needs A Little Love - The Consumerist Complete and...

Sat, 12 Dec 2009 20:40:54 -0500

Maybe It Just Needs A Little Love - The Consumerist

Complete and utter fail.

Let the rejoicing begin: Small Wonder: The Complete First...

Thu, 10 Dec 2009 00:19:11 -0500

height="344">

Let the rejoicing begin: Small Wonder: The Complete First Season slated for a DVD release

The human girl’s hair frightened me more than the robot.

Mormon Utah Senator Orrin Hatch Wrote a Hanukkah Song —...

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 20:06:10 -0500

Mormon Utah Senator Orrin Hatch Wrote a Hanukkah Song — Daily Intel

DECmate 1982 Vintage Word Processor, printer & more - eBay...

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 09:04:54 -0500

DECmate 1982 Vintage Word Processor, printer & more - eBay (item 300374751780 end time Dec-12-09 14:46:00 PST)

One of the cool things I’m ebaying for my uncle.

BAR AND BOOKS - HUDSON Sexist? Sure. Will I take advantage of...

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 01:48:27 -0500

BAR AND BOOKS - HUDSON

Sexist? Sure. Will I take advantage of it? Sure.

Ginger crinkles recipe | Homesick Texan The next cookies on the...

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 01:26:00 -0500

Ginger crinkles recipe | Homesick Texan

The next cookies on the list.

Marshmallows - Test Recipes - Cooking For Engineers This is the...

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 01:23:00 -0500

Marshmallows - Test Recipes - Cooking For Engineers

This is the coolest food blog I’ve seen in awhile. They use neat tables at the end of the text. They show their work. They dispute boiled-can safety in their dulce recipe. Am I gushing? Probably. I will be making marshmallows, that’s for sure.

"S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza..."

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 23:14:00 -0500

“S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.”

- TS Eliot, the Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock.

dailyotter: Via

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 23:06:57 -0500

dailyotter:

Via

oldhollywood: “Sometimes I dread the truth of the lines I say....

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 23:04:50 -0500

oldhollywood:

“Sometimes I dread the truth of the lines I say. But the dread must never show.”

-Vivien Leigh (via drmacro)

benrodgers: anthonyking: MOVIE #19 - It was incredibly...

Sun, 06 Dec 2009 23:03:54 -0500

benrodgers:

anthonyking:

MOVIE #19 - It was incredibly exciting to see this on the big screen. Not just because it’s my first time in a movie (though that was also exciting). But it’s remarkable what DERRICK has done. True independent film-making. And a very, very funny film to boot. I’m proud, jealous, and awed all at the same time.

If you’re in NYC this week - GO SEE MYSTERY TEAM. You’ll laugh and you’ll be supporting real independent film.

Going Thursday @ 930. Be there if you haven’t been already! Or even if you have.