the seventh seal

Antonius Block: This is my hand. I can turn it. The blood is still running in it. The sun is still in the sky and the wind is blowing. And I... I, Antonius Block, play chess with Death.

[Antonius Block lets Death choose which chess pieces to play]
Antonius Block: You drew black.
Death: Appropriate, don't you think?


Jonas Skat: Hey, you scurvy knave, what are you doing with my tree? You might at least answer. Who are you?
Death: I'm felling your tree. Your time is up.
Jonas Skat: You can't. I haven't time.
Death: So you haven't time?
Jonas Skat: No. My performance...
Death: Cancelled... because of Death.


Jons: Love is the blackest of all plagues... if one could die of it, there would be some pleasure in love, but you don't die of it.


Antonius Block: I shall remember this moment: the silence, the twilight, the bowl of strawberries, the bowl of milk. Your faces in the evening light. Mikael asleep, Jof with his lyre. I shall try to remember our talk. I shall carry this memory carefully in my hands as if it were a bowl brimful of fresh milk. It will be a sign to me, and a great sufficiency.


Antonius Block: I want to confess as best I can, but my heart is void. The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror. My indifference to men has shut me out. I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams.

128: national theatre edition

Countdown to going home: 128 days
National Theatre
Stencil on a wall near the National Theatre
Summer day in courtyard of the National Theatre

calendar girl

If I am lost for a day, try and find me
But if I don't come back, then I won't look behind me
All of the things that I thought were so easy
Just got harder and harder each day

December is the darkest and June is the lightest
But this empty bedroom won't make anything right
While out on the landing a friend I forgot to send home
Who waits up for me all through the night

Calendar girl, who's in love with the world (stay alive)
Calendar girl, who's in love with the world (stay alive)

I dreamed I was dying, as I so often do
And when I awoke I was sure it was true
I ran to the window, threw my head to the sky
And said, "Whoever is up there, please don't let me die"

But I can't live forever, I can't always breath
One day I'll be sand on a beach by a sea
The pages keep turning, I'll mark off each day with a cross
And I'll laugh about all that we've lost

Calendar Girl who is lost to the world
Stay Alive
Calendar Girl who is lost to the world
Stay Alive
January, February, March, April, May
I'm alive
June, July, August, September, October
I'm alive
November, December, yeah all through the winter
I'm alive
I'm alive

Stars, Calendar Girl

december 24

Still image from V for Vendetta.
1. Go to wikipedia and type in your birthday, month and day only.

2. List events that occurred on that day that interest you.
1814 - The Treaty of Ghent was signed which ended the War of 1812.
1865 - Several US Civil War Confederate veterans form the Ku Klux Klan.
1906 - Radio: Reginald Fessenden transmitted the first radio broadcast. The first program, consisted of a poetry reading, a violin solo, and a speech.
2003 - The Spanish police thwart an attempt by ETA to detonate 50 kg of explosives at 3:55 p.m. inside Madrid's busy Chamartín Station.
2004 - The 2004 Christmas Eve Snowstorm delivers an extremely unusual snowfall to the southern United States.

3. List a few birthdays.
1905 - Howard Hughes, American film producer and inventor (d. 1976)
1923 - George Patton IV, American general (d. 2004)
1971 - Ricky Martin, Puerto Rican singer
1974 - Ryan Seacrest, American television host

4. List a few deaths.
427 - Archbishop Sisinnius I of Constantinople
820 - Leo V, Byzantine Emperor (assassinated) (b. 775)
1992 - Peyo, Belgian comics artist, and creator of The Smurfs (b. 1928)

5. List a holiday or observance (if any).
- It is the day when food is traditionally set out for Santa Claus and his reindeer. Children around the world are urged to go to bed early so they are not awake when he arrives. (Thank you, Wikipedia!)
- The Declaration of Christmas Peace takes place in the Old Great Square of Turku, Finland's official Christmas City, according to old traditions dating back to the Middle Ages.

group f64

Edward Weston, Torso
My way of working --
I start with no preconceived idea --
discovery excites me to focus --
then rediscovery through the lens --
Edward Weston, Two Shells
final form of presentation seen on ground glass, the finished print previsioned complete in every detail of texture, movement, proportion, before exposure -- the shutter's release automatically and finally fixes my conception, allowing no after manipulation --

Edward Weston, Nude
the ultimate end, the print, is but a duplication of all that I saw and felt through my camera.

Edward Weston, 1930

Ansel Adams, Edward Weston

intellectual pursuits

A man's ethical behavior should be based effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties; no religious basis is necessary. Man would indeeded be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by fear of punishment and hope of reward after death.

Albert Einstein

You do not need the bible to justify love, but no better tool has been invented to justify hate.

Richard A. Weatherwax

The world is so exquisite, with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there's little good evidence. Far better, it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look Death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides.

Carl Sagan, Billions and Billions

postsecret: v

postsecret

american psycho

Patrick Bateman: Harold, it's Bateman, Patrick Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know: I've killed a lot of people. Some girls in the apartment uptown uh, some homeless people maybe 5 or 10 um an NYU girl I met in Central Park. I left her in a parking lot behind some donut shop. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail gun, and some man uh some old faggot with a dog last week. I killed another girl with a chainsaw, I had to, she almost got away and uh someone else there I can't remember maybe a model, but she's dead too. And Paul Allen. I killed Paul Allen with an axe in the face, his body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. I don't want to leave anything out here. I guess I've killed maybe 20 people, maybe 40. I have tapes of a lot of it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes. I even, um... I ate some of their brains, and I tried to cook a little. Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people. And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it this time. I guess I'll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I'm a pretty uh, I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So, if you get back tomorrow, meet me at Harry's Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.



Patrick Bateman: Come on, Bryce. There are a lot more important problems than Sri Lanka to worry about.
Timothy Bryce: Like what?
Patrick Bateman: Well, we have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger. We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless, and oppose racial discrimination and promote civil rights, while also promoting equal rights for women. We have to encourage a return to traditional moral values. Most importantly, we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people.

From the fantastic film American Psycho, based on the book of the same name by Bret Eaton Ellis.

what's in my journal?

What's in my journal?
Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean things, fishooks, barbs in your hand. But marbles too. A genius for being agreeable.
Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous discards. Space for knicknacks, and for Alaska. Evidence to hang me, or to beatify.
Clues that lead nowhere, that never connected anyway. Deliberate obfuscation, the kind that takes genius.
Chasms in character. Loud omissions. Mornings that yawn above a new grave. Pages you know exist but you can't find them.
Someone's terribly inevitable life story, maybe mine.

William Stafford, Crossing Unmarked Snow: Further Views on the Writer's Vocation, 108 days

138: norman foster edition

Countdown to going home: 138 days
City Hall
Inside City Hall
Gherkin! I love Norman Foster!

au reve

By j3 concepts
Click on pic for greater detail

stephanie klein blog excerpt

things that are temporarySoft-shell crabs. The warm spot in the ocean, a broken heart, the lead in the school play. Last licks.
Seahorses, your target heart rate, the jalapeño cornbread basket, and a bad hair day.
Cherry blossoms, Marathon Sunday, sleep, and cabin fever.
Your library book, veal, your magazine subscriptions, and the rain.
The miniature marshmallows in your instant hot chocolate, a fear of the dark, the previews at the movie theater.
Food coma, The U.S. Open, and the batteries in your remote.
Pub lunches, crisp fries piled onto your burger, a bucket of golf balls, and the last set of lat pull-downs. Ripe melons.
Sleep-away camp romances, lightening bugs, airings of It's a Wonderful Life, and long nails.
Root canal, comic-strips, and Saturday morning cartoons.
A rush of adrenaline, training bras, and feeling satiated after eating Chinese food.
Getting your ass kicked at Scrabble, candlelight, luminous copper pots, and sore feet.

A clean shave, virginity, parking meters, and some marriages.
My moods, our health, drinks with umbrellas, and the day.
His bad temper, a bad haircut, pimples, sunburn, and the heat.
A restraining order.
That job offer, your waistline, and Bush's term.
Free cone day at Ben & Jerry's, The Spice Girls, the flavor of your gum, and orgasms.
Beaujolais Nouveau, opportunity, friendships, pain, and infatuation.
Jersey tomatoes, the ozone layer, card games, and staring contests.
All baseball records (aside from Cal Ripken Jr.'s consecutive games and Pete Rose's hitting streak).
Perms, the mint that grows in your yard, and a hockey power play.
Trading hours, oil prices, Menudo, and baby teeth.
Snowfall, hiccups, an itch, and apple-picking season.
Dim sum Sunday, a cab ride from 82nd and Lex to Blue Ribbon Sushi, and winter according to the groundhog.

The lines at Thunder Mountain, the scent of Evelyn roses, the pre-show of the Academy Awards, and small talk.
A crackling fire, hangovers, history, and Stila lip glaze tubes.
L'oreal anti-frizz gel, light bulbs, and the summer.
Road construction on the L.I.E., a standing ovation, shoulder pads, and my friendship with #6.
The spotlight, double-breasted suits, big hair, and names like Myrtle.
The New Kids On The Block, mistakes, and Lent.
Hunger, a warm plate of cookies, dinosaurs, school, first impressions, and life.
Your mother-in-law's visit from out of town, the Cabbage Soup Diet, the honeymoon, and foreskin.

things that are nota diamond is forever, scars, regrets, and our love for our children

Excerpt from Stephanie Klein's Blog. Quite a good read.
And, again, collage compiled by Joleen.

star-shadows shine, love

See the stars, love,
In the water much clearer and brighter
Than those above us, and whiter,
Like nenuphars.

Star-shadows shine, love,
How many stars in your bowl?
How many shadows in your soul,
Only mine, love, mine?

When I move the oars, love,
See how the stars are tossed,
Distorted, the brightest lost.
—So that bright one of yours, love.

The poor waters spill
The stars, waters broken, forsaken.
—The heavens are not shaken, you say, love,
Its stars stand still.

There, did you see
That spark fly up at us; even
Stars are not safe in heaven.
—What of yours, then, love, yours?

What then, love, if soon
Your light be tossed over a wave?
Will you count the darkness a grave,
And swoon, love, swoon?

D.H. Lawrence

loveart?

i want love

I want love, but it's impossible
A man like me, so irresponsible
A man like me is dead in places
Other men feel liberated

I can't love, shot full of holes
Don't feel nothing, I just feel cold
Don't feel nothing, just old scars
Toughening up around my heart

But I want love, just a different kind
I want love, won't break me down
Won't brick me up, won't fence me in
I want a love, that don't mean a thing
That's the love I want, I want love

I want love on my own terms
After everything I've ever learned
Me, I carry too much baggage
Oh man I've seen so much traffic

So bring it on, I've been bruised
Don't give me love that's clean and smooth
I'm ready for the rougher stuff
No sweet romance, I've had enough
Elton John, I Want Love
Collage compiled by Joleen

nightmares and illuminations

One of the magic centres
Of the world;
One of the world's
Dreaming places.
Ought to point the way
To the world.
Here lives the great music
Of humanity
The harmonisation of different
Histories, cultures, geniuses,
And dreams.
Ought to shine to the world
And tell everyone
That history, though unjust,
Can yield wiser outcomes.And out of bloodiness
Can come love
Out of slave-trading
Can come a dance of souls,
Out of division, unity;
Out of chaos, fiestas.
City of tradition, conquests,
And variety;
City of commerce and the famous river,
Tell everyone that the future
Is yet unmade.
Many possibilities live in your cellars.
Nightmares and illuminations.
Boredom and brilliance.
Tomorrow's music sleeps
In undiscovered orchestras,
In unmade violins,
In coiled strings.
Spring waits by the lakes,
Listening to the unfurling daffodils.Summer lingers with the hyperborean worms,
Awaiting an astonishing command
From the all-seeing eye of Ra.
Tomorrow's music sleeps
In our fingers,
In our awakening souls,
The blossom of our spirit,
The suggestive buds of our hearts.
Tell everyone the idea
Is to function together,
As good musicians would
In undefined future orchestras.
Let the energy of commerce flow.
Let the vision of art heal.Technology, provide the tools.
Workers of the world
Re-make the world
Under the guidance of inspiration
And wise laws.
Create the beautiful music
Our innermost happiness suggests.
Delight the future.
Create happy outcomes.
And while Autumn dallies
With the West wind
And the weeping nightingales
And while Winter clears its sonorous throat
At the Antipodean banquets
Preparing for a speech of hoarfrost
And icicles conjured from living breath,
I want you to tell everyone
Through trumpets played with
The fragrance of roses
That a mysterious reason
Has brought us all together,
Here, now, under the all-seeing eye of the sun.

Ben Okri, poem that encircles the center of City Hall in London
December 2002
[Side note: Indentions were added and not of the author's intentions.]

mahendra's third eye

The aim of Zen is to open the eye of the "supreme reason", that is, to awaken the inmost sense which has remained altogether dormant since the beginning of the human consciousness. When this is accomplished, one sees directly into the truth of Reality and confronts a world which is new and yet not at all new.

Hindu philosophers call this eye of the supreme reason "Mahendra's third eye." It is said to open vertically between our two horizontal ones. What the third eye sees is paradoxical, contradictory. It sees a world of non-duality - things not expressible in terms of relativity, intellection, and mere verbalism.

Daisetz T. Suzuki

v for vendetta

Evey: Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot... But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love... And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man... A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I will never forget.

Evey: Who are you?
V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask.
Evey: Well I can see that.
V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Finch: Who was he?
Evey: He was Edmond Dantés... and he was my father. And my mother... my brother... my friend. He was you... and me. He was all of us.

Interrogator: I am instructed to inform you that you have been convicted by special tribunal and that unless you are ready to offer your cooperation you are to be executed. Do you understand what I'm telling you?
Evey: Yes.
Interrogator: Are you ready to cooperate?
Evey: No.
Interrogator: Very well. Escort Ms. Hammond back to her cell. Arrange a detail of six men and take her out behind the chemical shed and shoot her.
Guard: It's time.
Evey: I'm ready.
Guard: Look all they want is one little piece of information, just give them something, anything.
Evey: Thank you, but I'd rather die behind the chemical sheds.
Guard: Then you have no fear any more. You're completely free.

Valerie: I was born in Nottingham in 1985. I don't remember much of those early years, but I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tottle Brook and she used to tell me that God was in the rain. I passed my 11 Plus and went to girls' grammar. It was at school that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sarah. It was her wrists. They were beautiful. I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was an adolescent phase that people outgrew. Sarah did. I didn't. In 2002, I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn't have done it without Chris holding my hand. My father wouldn't look at me. He told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing. But I'd only told them the truth. Was that so selfish? Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us. But within that inch we are free. I'd always known what I wanted to do with my life and in 2015 I starred in my first film, The Salt Flats. It was the most important role of my life. Not because of my career, but because that was how I met Ruth. The first time we kissed I knew I never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again. We moved to a small flat in London together. She grew Scarlet Carsons for me in our window box and our place always smelt of roses. Those were the best years of my life.

V: A building is a symbol, as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given power by people. A symbol, in and of itself is powerless, but with enough people behind it, blowing up a building can change the world.

to lindsey and frank

Congratulations!

new york public library

In the reading room of the New York Public Library, that mausoleum, designed by some schoolmaster with memories of hard oak, dust and gloom, there are men who sit day after day, bulwarked by stacks of books, scribbling, scribbling in the little pools of light from the green-shaded lamps on the long oak tables, and you look at them and wonder what will-o'-the-wisps they are pursuing day after day, year after year. One of them may be writing a history of dentistry in America, another studying explosives in order to blow up the world, a third gathering evidence that Shakespeare wrote the Bible. Their faces are pale and grim. The only cheerful people in that place are those who do not read the books, but only handle them as they come from the dumbwaiter, and set them on the counter like mouldy slabs of beef. Those who sit at the long tables day after day are dedicated men; some of them are brave men. There is death in old books from the stacks of a great library; the dust that impregnates their pages is death and darkness; the dust says, "These are books that no one has opened for twenty years, fifty years, eighty years; and when you have written your book, it too will gather dust." White book dust, bone dust: garden dirt and axle grease are clean in comparison; they are living and unctuous; rubbed into the skin, they do good. The dust of books causes blains and hangnails; ingested, it provokes dyspepsia, flatulence, and heartburn; in the lungs it is cancerous.

Damon Knight

Photograph by James Muspratt