Sharp as Teeth and Stars

I was born blown minded with an eye on oblivion

Lastfm

AIM = SomaCherub

Sun Aug 31
Sat Aug 30
sofapizza:

paintraincomic:
showered with friendship fluids.


I love this image.  The last panel brings me joy.

sofapizza:

paintraincomic:

showered with friendship fluids.

I love this image. The last panel brings me joy.

(Source: paintraincomic.com, via yousoldtheworld)

art-yeti:

Jean Raoux, Ancient Vestals; 1727

art-yeti:

Jean Raoux, Ancient Vestals; 1727

(Source: http, via iseeacityburning)

Americans are taking fewer vacations than they used to

Nine million Americans took a week off in July 1976, the peak month each year for summer travel. Yet in July 2014, just seven million did. Keeping in mind that 60 million more Americans have jobs today than in 1976, that adds up to a huge decline in the share of workers taking vacations.
Some rough calculations show, in fact, that about 80 percent of workers once took an annual weeklong vacation — and now, just 56 percent do.
….
One possibility is that vacation suffers from a “Prisoner’s Dilemma.” It’s dangerous to be “that guy” who uses all the time off they get when everyone else is on the job, so workers limit their vacations. On balance, The Wall Street Journal says, the evidence does support that theory. Workers pay a career penalty for vacation. If Americans could establish a pro-vacation norm, those pressures would lessen.
That seems to be happening in some workplaces, where bosses require workers to use their time off. That might be, for the most part, just a management fad. Yet it is surprisingly normal in one industry: finance. That’s not out of kindness, however. Regulators have long recommended banks require vacations as a way of making it harder to conceal embezzlement.

Americans are taking fewer vacations than they used to

Nine million Americans took a week off in July 1976, the peak month each year for summer travel. Yet in July 2014, just seven million did. Keeping in mind that 60 million more Americans have jobs today than in 1976, that adds up to a huge decline in the share of workers taking vacations.

Some rough calculations show, in fact, that about 80 percent of workers once took an annual weeklong vacation — and now, just 56 percent do.

….

One possibility is that vacation suffers from a “Prisoner’s Dilemma.” It’s dangerous to be “that guy” who uses all the time off they get when everyone else is on the job, so workers limit their vacations. On balance, The Wall Street Journal says, the evidence does support that theory. Workers pay a career penalty for vacation. If Americans could establish a pro-vacation norm, those pressures would lessen.

That seems to be happening in some workplaces, where bosses require workers to use their time off. That might be, for the most part, just a management fad. Yet it is surprisingly normal in one industry: finance. That’s not out of kindness, however. Regulators have long recommended banks require vacations as a way of making it harder to conceal embezzlement.

Fri Aug 29
Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity. Simone Weil (via ohlovequotes)

(Source: psych-facts, via abiding-in-peace)

This song makes me want to hit the beach and lie in the sun.

(Source: mesaxi)

Thu Aug 28
vivalundinproductions:

El Greco (1541-1614)
Bust of an Apostle
1612-1614
Unpainted wood
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza Madrid

vivalundinproductions:

El Greco (1541-1614)
Bust of an Apostle
1612-1614
Unpainted wood
Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza Madrid

(Source: hismarmorealcalm, via duality-of-mann)

Wed Aug 27
paulslabyrinth:

Freddy Mercury “I Want To Break Free”

paulslabyrinth:

Freddy Mercury “I Want To Break Free”

(Source: toferkhris, via artbear)

paintedcorpse:

my first impression when meeting people

(Source: immaculateabortion)

hellas-inhabitants:

Archaeological Museum of Delphi. Head of gold and ivory statue probably depicting Apollo. 6th century. B.C.
Αρχαιολογικό Μουσείο Δελφών. Κεφαλή χρυσελεφάντινου αγάλματος που πιθανόν παρίστανε τον Απόλλωνα. 6ος αι. π.Χ.

hellas-inhabitants:

Archaeological Museum of Delphi. Head of gold and ivory statue probably depicting Apollo. 6th century. B.C.

Αρχαιολογικό Μουσείο Δελφών. Κεφαλή χρυσελεφάντινου αγάλματος που πιθανόν παρίστανε τον Απόλλωνα. 6ος αι. π.Χ.

(via bhollen8)

Tue Aug 26
kenyatta:


His name, he revealed, was Christopher Thomas Knight. Born on December 7, 1965. He said he had no address, no vehicle, did not file a tax return, and did not receive mail. He said he lived in the woods.
"For how long?" wondered Perkins-Vance.
Knight thought for a bit, then asked when the Chernobyl nuclear-plant disaster occurred. He had long ago lost the habit of marking time in months or years; this was just a news event he happened to remember. The nuclear meltdown took place in 1986, the same year, Knight said, he went to live in the woods. He was 20 years old at the time, not long out of high school. He was now 47, a middle-aged man.
Knight stated that over all those years he slept only in a tent. He never lit a fire, for fear that smoke would give his camp away. He moved strictly at night. He said he didn’t know if his parents were alive or dead. He’d not made one phone call or driven in a car or spent any money. He had never in his life sent an e-mail or even seen the Internet.

(via The Strange Tale of the North Pond Hermit)
h/t mememolly

This was a really fascinating read.

True hermits, according to Chris, do not write books, do not have friends, and do not answer questions. I asked why he didn’t at least keep a journal in the woods. Chris scoffed. “I expected to die out there. Who would read my journal? You? I’d rather take it to my grave.” The only reason he was talking to me now, he said, is because he was locked in jail and needed practice interacting with others.
"But you must have thought about things," I said. "About your life, about the human condition."
Chris became surprisingly introspective. “I did examine myself,” he said. “Solitude did increase my perception. But here’s the tricky thing—when I applied my increased perception to myself, I lost my identity. With no audience, no one to perform for, I was just there. There was no need to define myself; I became irrelevant. The moon was the minute hand, the seasons the hour hand. I didn’t even have a name. I never felt lonely. To put it romantically: I was completely free.”
That was nice. But still, I pressed on, there must have been some grand insight revealed to him in the wild.
He returned to silence. Whether he was thinking or fuming or both, I couldn’t tell. Though he did arrive at an answer. I felt like some great mystic was about to reveal the Meaning of Life.
"Get enough sleep."
He set his jaw in a way that conveyed he wouldn’t be saying more. This is what he’d learned. I accepted it as truth.

kenyatta:

His name, he revealed, was Christopher Thomas Knight. Born on December 7, 1965. He said he had no address, no vehicle, did not file a tax return, and did not receive mail. He said he lived in the woods.

"For how long?" wondered Perkins-Vance.

Knight thought for a bit, then asked when the Chernobyl nuclear-plant disaster occurred. He had long ago lost the habit of marking time in months or years; this was just a news event he happened to remember. The nuclear meltdown took place in 1986, the same year, Knight said, he went to live in the woods. He was 20 years old at the time, not long out of high school. He was now 47, a middle-aged man.

Knight stated that over all those years he slept only in a tent. He never lit a fire, for fear that smoke would give his camp away. He moved strictly at night. He said he didn’t know if his parents were alive or dead. He’d not made one phone call or driven in a car or spent any money. He had never in his life sent an e-mail or even seen the Internet.

(via The Strange Tale of the North Pond Hermit)

h/t mememolly

This was a really fascinating read.

True hermits, according to Chris, do not write books, do not have friends, and do not answer questions. I asked why he didn’t at least keep a journal in the woods. Chris scoffed. “I expected to die out there. Who would read my journal? You? I’d rather take it to my grave.” The only reason he was talking to me now, he said, is because he was locked in jail and needed practice interacting with others.

"But you must have thought about things," I said. "About your life, about the human condition."

Chris became surprisingly introspective. “I did examine myself,” he said. “Solitude did increase my perception. But here’s the tricky thing—when I applied my increased perception to myself, I lost my identity. With no audience, no one to perform for, I was just there. There was no need to define myself; I became irrelevant. The moon was the minute hand, the seasons the hour hand. I didn’t even have a name. I never felt lonely. To put it romantically: I was completely free.”

That was nice. But still, I pressed on, there must have been some grand insight revealed to him in the wild.

He returned to silence. Whether he was thinking or fuming or both, I couldn’t tell. Though he did arrive at an answer. I felt like some great mystic was about to reveal the Meaning of Life.

"Get enough sleep."

He set his jaw in a way that conveyed he wouldn’t be saying more. This is what he’d learned. I accepted it as truth.

(via fatmanatee)