Ryan Mcginely

He's simply one of my favorite photographers of all times. It was about time I mentioned him here as well.








"Photography is about freezing a moment in time; McGinley's is about freezing a stage in a lifetime. Young and beautiful is as fleeting as a camera snap--and thus all the more worth preserving."

the importance of being Morrissey

But you must be breaking someone's heart by saying "I've never gone out with anyone". There must be someone out there who will read this and say, "But I saw him for four years - how can he say that?"
There's a chilly pause. "There's nobody living on the planet who can say that. So there..."
Well, I don't believe you haven't ever gone out with anyone, Stephen [sic].
"Well, I haven't, so put that in your Sony cassette and..." He laughs sharply, almost harshly. "I really haven't."
But you're a human being.
"You've got no evidence of that," he rejoins. "Artists aren't really people. And I'm actually 40 percent papier mache."
Have you been in love with people?
"Oh yes. Real people with flesh and bones and eyes. But I'm so used to fantasy and everything being rock 'n' roll, I could never quite come out of the cinema and relate everything to the hard world. It was always at a distance. Always a dream. And I'm used to that now. I understand the life of books and films and music."
When's the last time you walked down the street holding someone's hand?
"I've never done that."
Ever?
"No! My mother, when I was one, perhaps."
When's the last time you snogged in the cinema?
"Never. You really do overestimate me, don't you? Can you really see me sitting in the back of the cinema snogging? Well, you should stop reading Cosmopolitan. It's not one of my strong points. You may bang your head against the hotel wall but there's nothing to tell. Nothing at all."
Fairly icy silence.
Did you friends ever suggest that by the time you were in your late 30's you'd want to settle down?
"No."
I'd think they'd want to see you happy.
"Maybe they do. I don't know. But they don't say."
Because they're not that crass?
"That's it. They're not that crass." He pauses and looks at the ceiling. "You know, this conversation has devolved dramatically."
....
I look at the man who not only invented Being Morrissey, but is still the unchallenged world champion. And I start to laugh. You're really good at this, you know, I giggle helplessly.
Morrissey rolls his eyes. "Ohhh, you can't keep an old pro down."

read here

Sophie van der Perre

by sophie van der perre

I really like the soft light, the intimacy and the atmosphere of these photos. They just convey a particular mood, they have a subtle, intimate ambiance of some sort...

Warhol & Hitchcock

two of my favorite people of all times

halloween inspiration from vogue paris

http://www.vogue.fr/

http://becauseimaddicted.net/

do you know me?

is it cruel or kind not to speak my mind,
and to lie to you rather than hurt you?
... I'll confess all of of my sins
after several large gins
but still I'll hide from you,
hide what's inside from you










...i don't think so

femme freak

by aitch

black and white characters drawn on tacky-used pieces of oilcloth

"I dress to kill, but tastefully"

a few inspirational photos (stolen from old fashion magazine editorials that i can't really remember), i guess i needed them here

genius

i don't really use this word, "genius", but this man, he's..oh my goodness.



Born like this
Into this
As the chalk faces smile
As Mrs. Death laughs
As the elevators break
As political landscapes dissolve
As the supermarket bag boy holds a college degree
As the oily fish spit out their oily prey
As the sun is masked
We are
Born like this
Into this
Into these carefully mad wars
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
Born into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it's cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charge so much it's cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
Born into this
Walking and living through this
Dying because of this
Muted because of this
Castrated
Debauched
Disinherited
Because of this
Fooled by this
Used by this
Pissed on by this
Made crazy and sick by this
Made violent
Made inhuman
By this
The heart is blackened
The fingers reach for the throat
The gun
The knife
The bomb
The fingers reach toward an unresponsive god
The fingers reach for the bottle
The pill
The powder
We are born into this sorrowful deadliness
We are born into a government 60 years in debt
That soon will be unable to even pay the interest on that debt
And the banks will burn
Money will be useless
There will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
It will be guns and roving mobs
Land will be useless
Food will become a diminishing return
Nuclear power will be taken over by the many
Explosions will continually shake the earth
Radiated robot men will stalk each other
The rich and the chosen will watch from space platforms
Dante's Inferno will be made to look like a children's playground
The sun will not be seen and it will always be night
Trees will die
All vegetation will die
Radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
The sea will be poisoned
The lakes and rivers will vanish
Rain will be the new gold
The rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind
The last few survivors will be overtaken by new and hideous diseases
And the space platforms will be destroyed by attrition
The petering out of supplies
The natural effect of general decay
And there will be the most beautiful silence never heard
Born out of that.
The sun still hidden there
Awaiting the next chapter.

-bukowski, monumental asshole, and a fucking genius

URL: http://able2know.org/topic/91839-1

and the Ass saw the Angel

"And in this lavender hell ah lay, upon a bed of tangled vine, and all the spinning webs did leave a sticky grey veil about mah face. And when she did appear, floating above all the desecration, her pinions fanned the scattered offerings up into a pile of hair and skin and bone, of paper and ash, of feather, tooth and nail, of blood and rags, and fractured glass and consumed them all in sudden fire that leaped and licked the tips of her wings and crackled unnerfoot. And though the hood of web masked mah eyes, ah could see the sad and sultry aspect of her face, and her hair worn loose, and her damp, swelling breasts, her painted lips and nails and her heavy-lidded eyes - and though mah ears were wraped in web, ah could hear her slow breathing and the lazy turn of her words as she told me that ah must know mah enemy. "

J.Green

"What is an ‘instant death’ anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is an instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes 5 minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous."