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  1. 2 notes reblog
    orla-joan:
    The Letter

    Why am I not suprised that the most popular newspaper in the country I live in would readily exploit a grieving mother to vilify a man who is half blind, and probably quite busy, about his spelling.

    I’m putting policy  to one side here.

    The more I concentrate on the content of what I write, the more the content affects me, the worse my spelling becomes. Gordon Brown has lost a child.

    More than that, while I would consider a handwritten letter, by definition, more personal and meaningful than a wordprocessed one, that we consider spelling or literacy to be a matter of ettiquette is a cultural quirk. Some civilisations never write stuff down. Some use pictures. My boyfriend is dyslexic, he can’t spell any day of the week.

    I am sure I would lose sight of this had I lost a child, but I’m pretty sure a newspaper journalist would be aware of it.

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  2. 158 notes reblog
    suicideblonde:

    Kurt Cobain’s suicide letter, addressed to his childhood imaginary friend Boddah, written while he was high on herion.

    To Boddah

    Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complain-ee. This note should be pretty easy to understand.

    All the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my first introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. I haven’t felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. I feel guilty beyond words about these things.

    For example when we’re back stage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowds begins., it doesn’t affect me the way in which it did for Freddie Mercury, who seemed to love, relish in the love and adoration from the crowd which is something I totally admire and envy. The fact is, I can’t fool you, any one of you. It simply isn’t fair to you or me. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I’m having 100% fun. Sometimes I feel as if I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on stage. I’ve tried everything within my power to appreciate it (and I do, God, believe me I do, but it’s not enough). I appreciate the fact that I and we have affected and entertained a lot of people. It must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they’re gone.

    I’m too sensitive. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasms I once had as a child.

    On our last 3 tours, I’ve had a much better appreciation for all the people I’ve known personally, and as fans of our music, but I still can’t get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. There’s good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little, sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. Why don’t you just enjoy it? I don’t know!

    I have a goddess of a wife who sweats ambition and empathy and a daughter who reminds me too much of what i used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function. I can’t stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I’ve become.

    I have it good, very good, and I’m grateful, but since the age of seven, I’ve become hateful towards all humans in general. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along that have empathy. Only because I love and feel sorry for people too much I guess.

    Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. I’m too much of an erratic, moody baby! I don’t have the passion anymore, and so remember, it’s better to burn out than to fade away.

    Peace, love, empathy. Kurt Cobain

    Frances and Courtney, I’ll be at your alter.

    Please keep going Courtney, for Frances.

    For her life, which will be so much happier without me. I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!

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  3. 6 notes reblog
    kunstwissenschaftlerin reblogged aubade:

    aubade:

    Some of the Lewis Chessmen may not have been chessmen at all according to new research.

    The 12th and 13th century gaming pieces which were discovered in Uig on the Isle of Lewis in 1831 are considered to be Scotland’s most renowned archaeological find.

    An article in the journal Medieval Archaeology by David Caldwell, Mark Hall and Caroline Wilkinson suggests that many of the 93 ivory pieces may have been used in a game called hnefatafl – an ancient Viking board game that pre-dates chess.

    Hnefatafl is similar to chess in that it also pits a king against pawns or warriors on the other side… (via)

    #ivories #chess pieces
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  4. 9 notes reblog
    lacontessa:

    by Vladimir Vitkovsky

    via

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  5. 5 notes reblog

    Are you a haunting beauty?

    via

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  6. 33 notes reblog
    eatsleepdraw:

    sketchbook.  black and white prismacolor on brown craft paper

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  7. 34 notes reblog
    elvira reblogged shorterexcerpts:
    [Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

    shorterexcerpts:

    matt-t:

    feelgoodhits:

    Ol Dirty Bastard - Baby, I Got Your Money

    All the pretty girls, in the world. And the ugly girls too. Cause to me your pretty anyways baby.

    This song. It comes up and I can’t just listen to it once. I end up playing it all day. One time I made the mistake of putting it on a mix CD and played it in the car. All the way to work. All the way home. Hey. Dirty. Baby I got your money. Shaking my ass in the seat. Doing the hand claps. Yes, while I’m driving. Clap clap. Clap clap. Windows down. Hands clapping. Singing back up and lead. Doing that side-to-side thing with my head.


    You can call me dirty, and then lift up your skirt. And you want some of this dirty, god made dirt and dirt bust yo ass.

    Oh god, I love singing that part. I find myself pointing at no one in particular. Point. Clap clap. Shake ass.

    Song ends. Start it again. The record is 36. In one day. This one song. Point. Clap clap.


    I love ODB in the way one loves an exploding. village-destroying, civilization-killing volcano. Because it makes for such pretty sunsets.

    That made sense to me.

    I can’t think of a better way to start the day.

    And if you aren’t following this tumblr, well you are missing out.

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  8. 7 notes reblog
    nickdrake:

    Mark & Carrie 2

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  9. 2 notes reblog
    intweetion:

    kill for total peace - CD/LP (via arnaud loumeau)

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  10. 231 notes reblog
    laureola reblogged architectureblog:

    Fisheye lens - Natural History Museum in London

    (via architectureblog, simtan)

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