Remember that time the U.S. shot down an Iranian civilian airliner over Iranian airspace, killing all 290 on board, including 66 children, and then refused to apologize for doing it?
"I will never apologize for the United States. I don’t care what the facts are. I’m not an apologize-for-America kind of guy." — Vice President (and then-presidential candidate) George H.W. Bush, commenting on the downed airliner, 8/2/1988
That quote makes me sick.
LTMC: I actually did not know about this. My only defense is that I was 4 years old at the time, and the government apparently did a great job of glossing over the history books on this one. Also, that GHWB quote is solid gold, thought not as solid as the solid gold dancers.
Approaching Shadow, 1954
By becoming a different me, I could free myself of everything. I seriously believed I could escape myself – as long as I made the effort. But I always hit a dead end. No matter where I go, I still end up me. What’s missing never changes. The scenery may change, but I’m still the same old incomplete person. The same missing elements torture me with a hunger that I can never satisfy. I think that lack itself is as close as I’ll come to defining myself.Haruki Murakami (via enabiah)
Fragment of the face of a queen, yellow jasper, c. 1353–1336 B.C. Middle Egypt
Bob Dylan during the recording of The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, 1963
”Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.”
"The train is about to leave."
The Huffington Post | By Mallika RaoThe Beijing-based artist and beekeeper Ren Ri is a focused man. His new three-part series — titled “Yuansu” in reference to the Chinese word for “element” — turns bees into his collaborators. Yuansu II features sculptures made by bees, of beeswax.
In an interview with CoolHunting, Ren explains the “special” properties that make beeswax such an interesting material:
“It’s unstable and can change shape with temperature. The structure of wax cells is orthohexagonal, which is an inconceivable feature in the natural world and it’s a peculiarity of honeybees.”
The sculptures are housed in transparent plastic polyhedrons. At the center of each is the queen bee, positioned thusly so as to enable the worker bees to build around her. They build symmetrically, due to the even planes of the polyhedrons. Every seventh day, Ren changes the gravity of the structure by rotating the box onto a different side. The act is in reference to the biblical concept of creation, but introduces a random element. Ren determines how to shift the box by the roll of a dice. Each time, there’s no telling how the bees will react to their new environment.
Here’s to the security guards who maybe had a degree in another land. Here’s to the manicurist who had to leave her family to come here, painting the nails, scrubbing the feet of strangers. Here’s to the janitors who don’t even fucking understand English yet work hard despite it all. Here’s to the fast food workers who work hard to see their family smile. Here’s to the laundry man at the Marriott who told me with the sparkle in his eyes how he was an engineer in Peru. Here’s to the bus driver, the Turkish Sufi who almost danced when I quoted Rumi. Here’s to the harvesters who live in fear of being deported for coming here to open the road for their future generation. Here’s to the taxi drivers from Nigeria, Ghana, Egypt and India who gossip amongst themselves. Here is to them waking up at 4am, calling home to hear the voices of their loved ones. Here is to their children, to the children who despite it all become artists, writers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, activists and rebels. Here’s to Western Union and Money Gram. For never forgetting home. Here’s to their children who carry the heartbeats of their motherland and even in sleep, speak with pride about their fathers. Keep on.
Immigrants. First generation.
Literate man, once having accepted an analytic technology of fragmentation, is not nearly so accessible to cosmic patterns as tribal man. He prefers separateness and compartmented spaces, rather than the open cosmos. He becomes less inclined to accept his body as a model of the universe, or to see his house — or any other of the media of communication, for that matter — as a ritual extension of his body. Once men have adopted the visual dynamic of the phonetic alphabet, they begin to lose the tribal man’s obsession with cosmic order and ritual as recurrent in the physical organs and their social extension.Marshall McLuhan, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (via widgernotes)
Indifference to the cosmic, however, fosters intense concentration on minute segments and specialist tasks, which is the unique strength of Western man. For the specialist is one who never makes small mistakes while moving toward the grand fallacy.