Jul 25, 2014
0 notes
Tonight I swung from a trapeze at the edge of Lake Michigan. (at Belmont Harbor)

Tonight I swung from a trapeze at the edge of Lake Michigan. (at Belmont Harbor)

Jul 24, 2014
15 notes
notpulpcovers:

Gangsters and Gunmolls #1

Relevant to interests.

notpulpcovers:

Gangsters and Gunmolls #1

Relevant to interests.

(Source: digitalcomicmuseum.com)

Jul 23, 2014
4 notes

In everything that can be called art there is a quality of redemption. It may be pure tragedy, if it is high tragedy, and it may be pity and irony, and it may be the raucous laughter of the strong man. But down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid.

The detective in this kind of story must be such a man. He is the hero; he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor—by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it, and certainly without saying it. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world. I do not care much about his private life; he is neither a eunuch nor a satyr; I think he might seduce a duchess and I am quite sure he would not spoil a virgin; if he is a man of honor in one thing, he is that in all things.

He is a relatively poor man, or he would not be a detective at all. He is a common man or he could not go among common people. He has a sense of character, or he would not know his job. He will take no man’s money dishonestly and no man’s insolence without due and dispassionate revenge. He is a lonely man and his pride is that you will treat him as a proud man or be very sorry you ever saw him. He talks as the man of his age talks—that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham, and a contempt for pettiness.

The story is the man’s adventure in search of a hidden truth, and it would be no adventure if it did not happen to a man fit for adventure. He has a range of awareness that startles you, but it belongs to him by right, because it belongs to the world he lives in. If there were enough like him, the world would be a very safe place to live in, without becoming too dull to be worth living in.

Raymond Chandler, “The Simple Art of Murder.” I know this is not an uncommon quote. It still captures the heart of the mythology he created. Happy birthday, Ray.
Jul 22, 2014
1 note

The Clash, “Stay Free”

Jul 22, 2014
2 notes
I’m really a freak in every place I go. I don’t quite fit in the independent scene, I don’t quite fit in the art scene, and I don’t fit in the Hollywood scene, so I’m a weird strange fat motherfucker. I’ll tell you this: I plan to stay that way, because there is something to be said.
Guillermo del Toro
Jul 20, 2014
3 notes
What your favorite Batman says about you. This is very accurate. (Kevin Conroy is the best Batman, by the way. In case I have to tell you that.)

What your favorite Batman says about you. This is very accurate. (Kevin Conroy is the best Batman, by the way. In case I have to tell you that.)

Jul 20, 2014
0 notes

Russ Olsen - To the Moon!

The ultimate lesson of Apollo is that if you do something cool, if you do something difficult, you do something technically difficult, and you do it with style, you do it with grace, you do it with elegance—well, you have the thing, right, but there’s this second effect. There is this wave that goes out from it. There’s a wave of belief. You make people believe. She can do it, I can do it. If he can do it, I can do it. You make people believe in the future, you make people believe in the possibilities, you make people believe in the themselves. I can do it.

Keynote from Clojure/conj 2013. My favorite talk ever. As technologists, we should remind ourselves often of the privilege and potential we have to engage in the endeavors we engage in.

Jul 20, 2014
0 notes
In brief, people with self-respect exhibit a certain toughness, a kind of mortal nerve; they display what was once called character, a quality which, although approved in the abstract, sometimes loses ground to other, more instantly negotiable virtues. The measure of its slipping prestige is that one tends to think of it only in connection with homely children and United States senators who have been defeated, preferably in the primary, for reelection. Nonetheless, character – the willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life – is the source from which self-respect springs.
Joan Didion, "On Self-Respect"
Jul 19, 2014
20 notes
In addition to my regular written journals (college-ruled composition notebooks I’ve filled for ~19 years), I used to carry around “idea” books for observations, sketches and, well, ideas. Picking up the habit again.

In addition to my regular written journals (college-ruled composition notebooks I’ve filled for ~19 years), I used to carry around “idea” books for observations, sketches and, well, ideas. Picking up the habit again.

Jul 18, 2014
6 notes

Lydia Loveless at the Mug and Brush in Clintonville. Perfect.

Jul 18, 2014
8 notes
It is from the bystanders (who are in the vast majority) that we receive the propaganda that life is not worth living, that life is drudgery, that the ambitions of youth must he laid aside for a life which is but a painful wait for death. These are the ones who squeeze what excitement they can from life out of the imaginations and experiences of others through books and movies. These are the insignificant and forgotten men who preach conformity because it is all they know. These are the men who dream at night of what could have been, but who wake at dawn to take their places at the now-familiar rut and to merely exist through another day. For them, the romance of life is long dead and they are forced to go through the years on a treadmill, cursing their existence, yet afraid to die because of the unknown which faces them after death. They lacked the only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences.
Happy birthday, Hunter.
Jul 16, 2014
1 note
We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam. Even fireworks, for all their prettiness, come from the chemistry of the earth. Yet somehow we think we can grow, feeding on flowers and fireworks, without completing the cycle back to reality….
Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451
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