Sunday, December 16, 2012

Monday, October 29, 2012

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Shovels and Rope

Shovels and rope/ cary ann hearst and michael trent. what can i even say about these guys? i've seen them 3 times and each time it gets better. from the low country of south carolina they are moving UP. listen to the thread, o' be joyful, forsaken blues, and of course gasoline and boxcar

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Thursday, May 31, 2012


Sula- Excerpt

Every now and then she looked around for tangible evidence of his having ever been there. Where were the butterflies? the blueberries? the whistling reed? She could find nothing, for he had left nothing but his stunning absence. An absence so decorative, so ornate, it was difficult for her to understand how she had ever endured, without falling dead or being consumed, his magnificent presence. The mirror by the door was not a mirror by the door, it was an altar where he stood for only a moment to put on his cap before going out. The red rocking chair was a rocking of his own hips as he sat in the kitchen. Still, there was nothing of his — his own — that she could find. It was as if she were afraid she had hallucinated him and needed proof to the contrary. His absence was everywhere, stinging everything, giving the furnishings primary colors, sharp outlines to the corners of rooms and gold light to the dust collecting on table tops. When he was there he pulled everything toward himself. Not only her eyes and all her senses but also inanimate things seemed to exist because of him, backdrops to his presence. Now that he had gone, these things, so long subdued by his presence, were glamorized in his wake. Then one day, burrowing in a dresser drawer, she found what she had been looking for: proof that he had been there, his driver's license. It contained just what she needed for verification — his vital statistics: Born 1901, height 5'11", weight 152 lbs., eyes brown, hair black, color black. Oh yes, skin black. Very black. So black that only a steady careful rubbing with steel wool would remove it, and as it was removed there was the glint of gold leaf and under the gold leaf the cold alabaster and deep, deep down under the cold alabaster more black only this time the black of warm loam.

Catherine Campbell


flux (capacitor)

Thursday, May 10, 2012


maurizio cattelan, interview here!

Monday, May 7, 2012

I want

a weekend like this.


ive got to reduce some of my open tabs! so i can pay my first utility bills here at maplecroft! ah, adult life and bills, how exciting. anyway- check out designtripper for inspiring articles and beautiful photos of dream travel destinations (theres even an article about asheville, nc). and if you're ready to get your hands dirty WOOF italia offers a chance to coordinate your own experience helping a working farm. and a song to listen to, shady grove (by the grateful dead) covered by appalachian picking society. just beautiful.
sorry things around here look a bit funky, the new blogger format is messing with me!

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Maddie on Things

super cool project, more here