making waves


25
April 27, 2010, 23:00
Filed under: art & culture, fashion

This is 25, the new magazine of Anja Rubik and Sasha Knezevic. The interviews are grungy and the editorials are naked. Its vibe whispers that anything is not really tough to accomplish; just do it, on road, off road, just do it. Or this is just my first impression.

© 25 magazine



Wild thing
April 21, 2010, 21:54
Filed under: fashion, film, stage

Marion Cottilard is a cat woman. She knows how to move, how to look, how to talk, how to dance. In this fashion performance for AnOther Magazine, you can tell by yourself. Watch the film in the largest screen possible just to stare at her eyes; she is there but she isn’t.

© AnOther Magazine



500 days of Summer
April 18, 2010, 14:44
Filed under: film

This story, of a boy meets girl, is bittersweet -so nice.



From love’s first fever to her plague
April 14, 2010, 12:25
Filed under: poetry

From love’s first fever to her plague, from the soft second
And to the hollow minute of the womb,
From the unfolding to the scissored caul,
The time for breast and the green apron age
When no mouth stirred about the hanging famine,
All world was one, one windy nothing,
My world was christened in a stream of milk.
And earth and sky were as one airy hill.
The sun and mood shed one white light.

From the first print of the unshodden foot, the lifting
Hand, the breaking of the hair,
From the first scent of the heart, the warning ghost,
And to the first dumb wonder at the flesh,
The sun was red, the moon was grey,
The earth and sky were as two mountains meeting.

The body prospered, teeth in the marrowed gums,
The growing bones, the rumour of the manseed
Within the hallowed gland, blood blessed the heart,
And the four winds, that had long blown as one,
Shone in my ears the light of sound,
Called in my eyes the sound of light.
And yellow was the multiplying sand,
Each golden grain spat life into its fellow,
Green was the singing house.

The plum my mother picked matured slowly,
The boy she dropped from darkness at her side
Into the sided lap of light grew strong,
Was muscled, matted, wise to the crying thigh,
And to the voice that, like a voice of hunger,
Itched in the noise of wind and sun.

And from the first declension of the flesh
I learnt man’s tongue, to twist the shapes of thoughts
Into the stony idiom of the brain,
To shade and knit anew the patch of words
Left by the dead who, in their moonless acre,
Need no word’s warmth.
The root of tongues ends in a spentout cancer,
That but a name, where maggots have their X.

I learnt the verbs of will, and had my secret;
The code of night tapped on my tongue;
What had been one was many sounding minded.

One wound, one mind, spewed out the matter,
One breast gave suck the fever’s issue;
From the divorcing sky I learnt the double,
The two-framed globe that spun into a score;
A million minds gave suck to such a bud
As forks my eye;
Youth did condense; the tears of spring
Dissolved in summer and the hundred seasons;
One sun, one manna, warmed and fed.

Dylan Thomas



coffee and cigarettes
April 14, 2010, 12:02
Filed under: film, music

Nothing happens but you can’t stop watching.
[It’s Jim Jarmusch and the kings, that’s why.]



Eleven April Beats
April 12, 2010, 23:11
Filed under: blogs, photography

It’s on– with a little delay for good luck.



we lost faith in the arms of love
April 6, 2010, 20:45
Filed under: music

I recently listened to the music of Ben Howard and became a fan of it. “These waters” are the pure words of a young man that sings his heart out with honesty and inner strength. Check out ‘The Wolves’, straight from Devon, England.

Falling from high places, falling through lost spaces,
Now that we’re lonely, now that there’s nowhere to go.
Watching from both sides, these clock towers burning up,
I lost my time here, i lost my patience with it all.

And we lost faith, in the arms of love.

Where you been hiding lately, where you been hiding from the news?
Because we’ve been fighting lately, we’ve been fighting with the wolves.
With the wolves.
Red tongues and hands.

Falling from high places, falling through lost spaces,
Now that we’re lonely, now that we’re so far from home.
Watching from both sides, these towers been tumbling down,
I lost my mind here, I lost my patience with the lord.

And we lost faith, oh in the arms of love.

Where you been hiding lately, where you been hiding from the news?
Because we’ve been fighting lately, we’ve been fighting with the wolves.
With the wolves.
Red tongues and hands.

We lost faith, in the arms of love.

© Ben Howard