Hemingway on Paris in Comic Sans is a travesty.
haikus from the New York Times
One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters… But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose. But get drunk.
Very cool: “A circa-1910 illustration of what the folks at the Greater Atlanta Magazine imagined Peachtree Street would look like come 2010.”
Q: What’s your favorite vegetarian restaurant?
A: India
— Anthony Bourdain, here.
devastatingly ironic.
new yorker covers you were never meant to see
(Source: maddieonthings, via clubandcountry)
What Mark Zuckerberg Could’ve Bought With $1 Billion
- The entire New York Times, says Reuters’ Jack Shafer
- The ability to buy out New York Times CEO Janet Robinson 42 times
- 800 of
AOL’sMicrosoft’s patents- Roughly 1,250 GSA West Coast Conferences
- Shell’s Debt on Iranian Oil
- The cure for Lou Gehrig’s disease
- Solo Cups (the company)
- The amount BP has pledged toward Gulf Restoration
- A better 911 program in New York City
- Soccer team Real Madrid’s Island in the UAE
- The winnings of every Powerball jackpot in 2007
- 45% of a B-2 Bomber
- 68 Lebron Jameses , 40 Kobe Bryants, and 83 Albert Pujolses
- All of J.Lo’s love (it’s gratis!)
Homecoming
I forgot how Madras loves noise —
loves neighbours and pregnant women
and Gods and babiesand Brahmins who rise
like fire hymns to sear the air
with habitual earthquakes.
How funeral processions clatter
down streets with drums and rose-petals,
dancing death into deafness.
How vendors and cats make noises
of love on bedroom walls and alleyways
of night, operatic and dark.
How cars in reverse sing Jingle Bells
and scooters have larynxes of lorries.
How even colour can never be quiet.
How fisherwomen in screaming red —
with skirts and incandescent third eyes
and bangles like rasping planets
and Tamil women on their morning walks
in saris and jasmine and trainers
can shred the day and all its skinny silences.
I forgot how a man dying under the body
of a tattered boat could ask for promises;
how they could be as soundless as the sea
on a wounded day, altering the ground
of the earth as simply as the sun filtering through —
the monsoon rain dividing everything.
la mer de pianos
(Source: amagyzmo, via roundmonkey)
