Twilight has been all the rage the last year. I haven’t read the books or seen the movie, and it’s doubtful I ever will. And I normally don’t knock anything off before I’ve tried it, but when it comes to the first sentence in this post I have a wonderful animation to illustrate how I feel:
British illustrator/designer Olly Moss remakes movie posters.
Edit: Apparently Photobucket didn’t like the American History X poster. My guess for why is the swastika. I’ve taken it down, but you can still see it by visiting the link above!
Yesterday I came across a bunch of pictures from an event I’d never heard of. I googled and read, googled and read, and while I’m still not entirely sure I understand, these pictures and the event behind sounds too awesome not to share.
Burning Man takes place in Black Rock City, in Nevada. It’s kind of like a festival, except no bands/musicians are hired. There are only participants. Black Rock City exists only when the festival and the preparations take place; the rest of the year there is no Black Rock City.
What is Burning Man then? To quote their official website: “The event takes place on an ancient lakebed, known as the playa. By the time the event is completed and the volunteers leave, sometimes nearly a month after the event has ended, there will be no trace of the city that was, for a short time, the most populous town in the entire county. Art is an unavoidable part of this experience, and in fact, is such a part of the experience that Larry Harvey, founder of the Burning Man project, gives a theme to each year, to encourage a common bond to help tie each individual’s contribution together in a meaningful way. Participants are encouraged to find a way to help make the theme come alive, whether it is through a large-scale art installation, a theme camp, gifts brought to be given to other individuals, costumes, or any other medium that one comes up with.“
Black Rock City.
Uchronia, 2006. Photo by Splat Worldwide!
Big Rig Jig, 2007. Photo by Dr.Placebo.
Hope Flower, 2005-2006. Photo by Smoobs.
Crude Awakening, 2007. Photo by John Curley.
Duel Nature, 2006. Photo by John Curley.
Homouroboros, 2007. Photo by affinity1.
Big Round Cubatron, 2006. Photo by DogFromSPACE.
Steampunk Tree House, 2007. Photo by Mayhem.
Belisama, 2008. Photo by Burnblue.
French Playboy is not like any other Playboy. For comparison:
American Playboy:
And French Playboy:
How do you take your Playboy? Chic, or (ass)cheeky?
Looking at these pictures made me wish for rain, despite being blessed with 275 rainy days out of 365. That is most certainly genius.
Installation of Beads on Fishing Line, by Stacee Kalmanovsky.
“I don’t care what the neighbors say, I’m gonna love you each and every day.”
- Led Zeppelin
“Do you ever wonder what people are thinking about when you pass them on the street?” – Katie Soloker
Katie and Matt Adams hung these thought bubbles up on various walls in Brooklyn. You can see more of her ideas and general musings here.
(By the way, I always assume they – random people on the street – are thinking about me. On a good day that can make me feel very fabulous. On all the other days, it’s exhausting. That’s self-absorbed for you right there.)
I kind of envy people in microbiology after looking at these cuties. But that might be because in my head they just sit in conference rooms and use the toys above as weapons against eachother, and use the results to determine what the most badass microbe is. Just so you know, my money is totally on Stachybotrys chartarum. Just look at the guy; he’s evil.
Plush toys from GIANTmicrobes.
I once had a cat. Now, I loved him very much and I’m sure Jesus did too, but he was a mongrel, in more ways than the obvious one. When I was still young enough to be an early riser, he would chase me around the livingroom and try to scratch me. Despite developing reflexes that could compete with his feline ones, it wasn’t really worth the hassle. I still loved him, though I secretly wished he would turn into a dog. Which my parents would never let me have since they were smart enough not to believe in my “I’ll walk him every day myself I swear please please!” lies.
There are plenty of elegant, graceful and pretty dogs out there, but I’ve never wanted one of those; I think my cat traumatized the shit out of me. I prefer the more sturdy dogs, and I have many favorites, but I think I’ll start with the least elegant, graceful and pretty dog I’ve ever seen:
They just look so completely, thoroughly retarded; I can’t help but feel as if we’re deeply connected in spirit. I got to meet one about a month ago, and I can’t forget about him. He was made of awesome that is purer and more distilled than Absolut Vodka. Odin Hiawatha, this post is for you.
