Messyfilter
Fingerpainting while chopping onions.
About the author
Sarah Dopp splatters heartmeats onto walls like art.
Elsewhere
A note from Kevin Marks: I liked this bit in Cory(Doctorow)’s Makers book:
“Here’s what being a career activist means: you are on the road most of the time. When you get on the road, you meet people, have intense experiences with them—like going to war or touring with a band. You fall in love a thousand times. And then you leave all those people behind. You get off a plane, turn some strangers into best friends, get on a plane and forget them until you come back into town, and then you take it all back up again.
“If you want to survive this, you’ve got to love that. You’ve got to get off a plane, meet people, fall in love with them, treasure every moment, and know that moments are all you have. Then you get on a plane again and you love them forever. Otherwise, every new meeting is sour because you know how soon it will end. It’s like starting to say your summer-camp goodbyes before you’ve even unpacked your duffel-bag. You’ve got to embrace—or at least forget—that every gig will end in a day or two.”
Yo, cookie monster is tearing it up! At 1:26 is the best moment lol The bouncing eyes kill me.
What if we all dressed like cookie monster in subway stations, reduced to raw talent?
AlternativeTo.net
Note to self: Clean, useful site that recommends alternative software, brainstorm-style.
In Salman Rushdie’s story “The Prophet’s Hair,” a greedy man intentionally cripples his four sons when they’re young, hoping to turn them into beggars who elicit profound sympathy and large cash donations. The plan is successful. His sons earn him a good income. Later, however, he comes into possession of a potent talisman — a strand of hair from the prophet Mohammed — and it magically heals the sons’ ailments. They’re no longer able to pull in big bucks, and grief descends upon the family. I bring this to your attention, Taurus, because I think there’s a variation on these themes at work in your own life. A “magic charm” is available that could reverse or at least neutralize an old handicap. Do you have the pluck to surrender the questionable rewards that your impairment has brought you?
Who's their daddy?
The universe has been sending me submissive men lately.
A lot of them.
Clutters of mountains of stuff
I found the perfect-sized cheap-ass flimsy-as-hell kindergardeny-looking shelving at Target (pronounced “tar-ZHAY”). They’re assembled now, but still empty. Meanwhile, my floor is still full of clutter.
Packing and moving had a deadline. Unpacking and settling does not. Somehow I believed for a minute that I could take my time on it, that my life could go on amidst the clutter, and that my little studio of miscellany could serve as my office while I caught up on the last month of not working so much.
But it turns out space matters, and clutter makes madness. And hi, my name is Sarah, and I hate the world.
Welcome to my messyfilter.
