Source: itspeteski (Calvin and Hobbes)
SuperMoon
November 14, 2016 by 19 Comments
“On Monday, 14 November, the moon will be the biggest and brightest it has been in more than 60 years. So long as the sky is clear of clouds, it should be a great time to get outside and gaze at it or take some photos…At 8:09PM GMT, the moon will pass by the Earth at a distance of 356,511km – the closest it has passed the Earth since 1948. As it does so, it will be a full moon, making it a particularly big supermoon. Supermooons are roughly 30% larger in area and 30% brighter than the smallest full moons – full moons that happen when the moon is at its furthest distance from Earth: at “apogee”. In terms of diameter – the width of the moon – it will be about 14% wider than the smallest full moons. (Read more at The Guardian: Supermoon science: November 2016 moon biggest and brightest in 60 years)
Art: Dark Hall Mansion
It’s been a long day
November 1, 2016 by 19 Comments
Notes:
- Source: Artist Ben Rubin with his subway doodle series @ designboom
- Related Posts: “It’s Been a Long Day“
Nice (84)
July 15, 2016 by 18 Comments
Guilty
June 22, 2016 by 10 Comments
I distrust the perpetually busy; always have.
The frenetic ones spinning in tight little circles like poisoned rats.
The slower ones, grinding away their fourscore and ten in righteousness and pain.
They are the soul-eaters.
~ Mark Slouka, excerpt from Quitting the Paint Factory
Art: Hélène Boutanos, illustrator from Paris, France.
No other warm-blooded creature lives this way. We alone keep working 24/7, under the false suns of our fluorescent lights.
June 6, 2016 by 25 Comments
![Swiping (by Eszter Balogh) DESIGN STORY: | Tumblr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | [[MORE]]](https://i2.wp.com/67.media.tumblr.com/46674720fdb8636fa49105dfc1e37afd/tumblr_nuvxt1m52v1sp8304o1_1280.gif)
38 percent of Americans describe themselves as “always” feeling rushed. No other warm-blooded creature lives this way: ignoring seasonal patterns, ignoring rest. We alone keep working 24/7, under the false suns of our fluorescent lights. It is as if we hope to rid ourselves of the natural world entirely: discarding not just our own circadian rhythms, but also the larger cycles of the moon and stars, the tides, the solar year. And yet, it is useful, surely, to have some grasp of what the experts call “chronobiology”—to recognize the ways in which our bodies are in fact entrained not to clocks or computers or our weekly schedules, but to the ancient, powerful rhythms of the larger universe. In the course of a day, our hearts will pound out a quiet drum of sixty to eighty beats per minute, speeding up as we race to catch a bus, slowing down when we take a nap. Our body temperatures will rise and fall by a degree or two, reaching peak efficiency late in the afternoon. Our cells will multiply and divide and replace themselves as necessary; hormones and enzymes will be produced. Women in their child-bearing years will move with greater or lesser ease through the different stages of their monthly cycles. Meanwhile, rain or shine, our attention will ebb and flow throughout the day: an hour and a half of concentrated attention, a short break; another hour and a half, another break.
~ Christian McEwen, World Enough & Time: On Creativity and Slowing Down.
Notes:
- Don’t Miss: How is Your Phone Changing You?
- Image: by Eszter Balogh
- Related Posts: Christian McEwen
So you have to fall back on superior intelligence and superior firepower. And that’s all she wrote.
May 12, 2016 by 5 Comments
You smiled, you know you did.
Source: Timba Smits is an award-winning designer, artist, illustrator and part-time crime fighter based in East London. Find his website and his work here: Timbasmits.com
Siblings.
March 26, 2016 by 44 Comments
She’s 23. Her Brother, 22.
He orders a Tom Collins, and gets carded. She, a Zinfindel. Dad, a tall ice water. “Sparkling, or Flat for you Sir?” “Tap, Miami’s finest please.” After dinner cocktails in a hotel bar, with of-age children. Embrace the memories, block the melancholia. I fail, it seeps in and then overwhelms me, water around stone.
It’s a quiet Friday night. The Sushi Chef leans on the glass case and flirts with the cocktail waitress. She’s wearing a smart black skirt and jacket. On the other side of the bar, middle aged lovers huddle, whispering.
A one-man band blows on an electronic wind instrument, alternating with a brass trumpet with a black trumpet cap. His supporting cast, multi-colored bars flashing on a laptop and pumped out of tall, thin, floor standing speakers. He sways to and fro, lips pursed on reed. The Chill music hangs, a sweet fine mist over the valley. One could drop this, all of this, in Ramblas in Barcelona, in Gastown in Vancouver or the Dièse Onze in Montreal. Vibe, Same.
The eyelids are heavy, barbells. The body, from its all day soak in the sun, the wind, and the ocean salt, aches for rest.
I watch them leave together, bar hopping. She leans into him with her shoulder, they laugh. How many times in their lifetimes? Hundreds of times where Mom, and Dad, the Heavy, broke up skirmishes, and worse. Salter’s Light Years: “Passing of life together, a compact that will never end…lives formed together, woven together.” And Parents stitching, braiding, weaving it all in the hope of This. Look, This, a tapestry. Full body warmth rushes in.
I ride the elevator up. Melancholy, a Tsunami now. [Read more…]
David Bowie
January 11, 2016 by 27 Comments
