"Perhaps he felt, now that the grandchildren were grown, that the draft on his conscience had been discharged what with Henry away at the State University at Oxford and Judith gone even further than that - into that transition stage between childhood and womanhood where she was even more inaccessible to the grandfather of whom she had seen but little during her life and probably cared less anyway - that state where, though still visible, young girls appear as though seen through glass and where even the voice cannot reach them; where they exist (this the hoyden who could and did outrun and outclimb, and ride and fight both with and beside her brother) in a pearly lambence without shadows and themselves partaking of it; in nebulous suspension held, strange and unpredictable, even their very shapes fluid and delicate and without substance; not in themselves floating and seeking but merely waiting, parasitic and potent and serene, drawing to themselves without effort the post-genitive upon and about which to shape, flow into back, breast; bosom, flank, thigh."
"Really like this first episode. I will definiteley watch every episode since the time is EU friendly and they are now sponsored by the manufacturers of my phone processor!"
GameCrib: TSM Snapdragon - Episode 1 Welcome Home - GameSpot Video
someone just sent me a link to this pilot episode of GameCrib, which appears to be about an “esports house” where a bunch of pro League of Legends nerds live together. it was predictably awful but this comment from one of the viewers really encapsulates the consumerist brand-fetishism that is one of the things making “nerd culture” such a trash pit. i used to see comments like this all the time when i was writing for game outlets, and i wonder if, maybe like some forms of sports team fetishism, it appeals to the part of white male experience that longs for a purpose and a cause when everyone else seems to have their hands full with racism, sexism, et al.
“like straight up you can give the police One Trillion Dollars and they will roll up in a fucking ferrari cop car with rocket launchers meanwhile sending faxes of mimeographs 50 feet to ‘records’ which is just a room with a lady in it who puts the fax in a box”
“It sure is fun to imagine a dystopian security state with flying police robots and hacker activists fighting gamely but doomedly against an overwhelming corporate overwatch that has completely saturated the remaining shreds of democratic governance”
- Teenagers in 1986
All bad photos are alike, but each good photograph is good in its own way. The bad photos have found their apotheosis on social media, where everybody is a photographer and where we have to suffer through each other’s “photography” the way our forebears endured terrible recitations of poetry…
"Revolution approaches! With angered eyes, and flaming hair, her trembling hands knock anxiously on the doors of our nation. Let us welcome her with serenity, for although she carries death in her breast, she is the announcement of life, the herald of hope. She will destroy and create at the same time; she will raze and build. Her fists are the invincible fists of a people in rebellion. She does not offer roses or caresses; she offers an axe and a torch."
— Ricardo Flores Magon, “To Women” (via breeatlast)
"Love was one of the temporal things in her life, except in so far as she was an artist. She thought of Cleopatra—Cleopatra must have been an artist; she reaped the essential from a man, she harvested the ultimate sensation, and threw away the husk; and Mary Stuart, and the great Rachel, panting with her lovers after the theatre, these were the exoteric exponents of love. After all, what was the lover but fuel for the transport of this subtle knowledge, for a female art, the art of pure, perfect knowledge in this sensuous understanding."
Women In Love, D. H. Lawrence, 1920
Haha yeah! Make art! Smash the patriarchy!
"Of course,” said Gudrun, “life doesn’t REALLY matter—it is one’s art which is central. What one does in one’s life has peu de raport, it doesn’t signify much.” “Yes, that is so, exactly,” replied the sculptor. “What one does in one’s life, that is a bagatelle for the outsiders to fuss about."
Women In Love, D. H. Lawrence, 1920
(artists have always been assholes)
"There is not only no need for our places of work to be ugly, but their ugliness ruins the work, in the end. Men will not go on submitting to such ugliness. In the end it will hurt too much, and they will wither because of it. And this will wither the work as well. They will think the work itself is ugly: the machines, the very act of labour. Whereas the machinery and the acts of labour are extremely, maddeningly beautiful. But this will be the end of our civilisation, when people will not work because work has become so intolerable to their senses, it nauseates them too much, they would rather starve. THEN we shall see the hammer used only for smashing, then we shall see it."
Women in Love, D. H. Lawrence, 1920
This is as much a book about art, and the end of the Victorians and Edwardians, as it is about women, or men, or love. The characters are raptly attentive, and sensitive, to the crumbling of the old world and the approach of the “roaring” twenties—the women are liberating themselves, the young men are either stepping back to allow them to do so, or in transports of rage about the girls stepping out of place. Industry is ripping the countryside open, and industrial businessmen are grinding the peasantry down into the machine-parts of the new age. It’s fascinating and incredibly identifiable, if over-unctuous.
It’s also REALLY gay. Wow.
"But only artists produce for each other the world that is fit to live in."
— Women In Love, D. H. Lawrence
"How much cleaner and more dignified to be dead! One could not bear any more of this shame of sordid routine and mechanical nullity. One might come to fruit in death."
Women In Love, D. H. Lawrence
Everyone in this book is constantly rolling around on the ground in transports of angst. It’s both luscious and ludicrous.
"Normally, in anything I do, I’m fairly miserable. I do it, and I get grumpy because there is a huge, vast gulf, this aching disparity, between the platonic ideal of the project that was living in my head, and the small, sad, wizened, shaking, squeaking thing that I actually produce."
— Neil Gaiman (via cottonbutts)
"Someday, I’d like to see a movie about the Titanic which plays the main storyline straight, but has brawling groups of competing time travelers in the background of every scene."
"the goons who like the police are resentful nerds who never did drugs or drank under-age, which is probably the direct or proximate cause for most cop hatred in young white people. when the cops busted that house party they gave two dozen suburbanites a tiny, tiny taste of what it’s like to be on the wrong end of the american baton stick, but when IronicAnimeFan15 heard about it he said “alright! fuck those vapid sluts”* and went back to friday night posting (* says this and considers himself progressive for using “sluts” to refer to a mixed gender group)"
I’m really proud of my little brother.