(via https://open.spotify.com/track/4UF09dwPxkbHSD3ABjNY8p?si=R8fPLbSXQeKMPTtS1ItFnA)
Yes, my shit-kicking roots are showing, I can’t help it. This has always been one of my favorite songs.
In fact, this whole record I just adore.
Hope is a bourgeois Tinker Bell toy that can transform into a guard dog of the most vicious nature. -Harrison
Brooks Brothers Harris Tweed jacket, ‘Makers’ tattersall OCBD, and an ancient Huntington lambswool v-neck. Snow on the ground. Grey skies. Quiet day.
Gather round me people, for the tatters I will sall
William Eggleston Self-portrait 1970
“A picture is what it is and I’ve never noticed that it helps to talk about them, or answer specific questions about them, much less volunteer information in words. It wouldn’t make any sense to explain them. Kind of diminishes them. People always want to know when something was taken, where it was taken, and, God knows, why it was taken. It gets really ridiculous. I mean, they’re right there, whatever they are.” William Eggelston
Born January 8, 1947
Boogie Nights (1997) dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
“A woman from the audience asks: ‘Why were there so few women among the Beat writers?’ and [Gregory] Corso, suddenly utterly serious, leans forward and says: “There were women, they were there, I knew them, their families put them in institutions, they were given electric shock. In the ‘50s if you were male you could be a rebel, but if you were female your families had you locked up.”
—Stephen Scobie, on the Naropa Institute’s 1994 tribute to Allen Ginsberg (via room42)
(Source: fuckyeahbeatniks-blog)
