Marshall
Brooklyn, NY
Brooklyn, NY
Las Vegas, NV
Las Vegas, NV
If I know anyone at all who is not voting the Harris/Walz ticket:
Does this describe a bubble or a silo or an echochamber? I think these terms were invented to suit a very recent purpose, to explain unforeseen political outcomes in a time dominated by our infatuation with a contemporary version of the internet, not to describe likemindedness as they present it. By and large, likemindedness has always been attractive, for its affirmative powers, its inspiration, its support. Likemindedness is where we get our courage from, where we learn our strengths and weaknesses, where we learn to prosper.
I believe this idea has been corrupted by the fundamental achievements of current social practice. The platforms did it. The algorithms did it. The infinite scroll, the engagement economy, Surveillance Capitalism, these are the forces and corporations that have created the environment in which we live. Their aim is to know and isolate us in ever-expanding profit-extraction. We are not connected, we are separated. We do not learn, we forget. If we think about it at all, broadly speaking, we think the next post/video/story/dump will be the one that satisfies something in us that did not exist until we started scrolling.
These towns were not randomly submerged. Their disappearance was part of a broader narrative about communities in the American West displaced for—depending on location—hydroelectric power, irrigation, flood control, and a twentieth-century idea of progress. This trend began in the 1920s, accelerated through the go-go years post-World War II, and continued through the Cold War era. It lasted until the 1970s.
Why Are We Humoring Them? | The Atlantic
The brand of politics that Musk and Carlson practice is swaggering and provocative and, as a result, entirely devoid of shame. And so the two men, wielding their mockery, make a show of each chortle and smirk. They may consider their delight to be defiant—a rebuke to the humorless masses who see the violence and not the lol—but it is not defiant. It is dull. This is the way of things now. The tragedy and the farce, the menace that winks, the joke that threatens, the emoji that cries with joy and the one that simply cries: They bleed together, all of them. Irony storms the Capitol.
It’s early in the morning in my Aunt Rita’s kitchen. In my family we pronounce it “ant,” not “awnt”. Rita and I are at her table, the room is lit by a circular fluorescent light, cool, bluer than I am used to. And is the decor blue and green? Wallpaper, maybe? I can’t remember. I can’t remember when this was, either, except that it must have been after my parent’s divorce, which means I was at least 9 or 10. I conflate it with another visit, years later, when my father, brother, and I were there to celebrate my father’s 50th birthday. I was 17 that year, not much after the earlier memory by the standards of middle age but a lifetime later from the vantage of being 10 or 17.
I’m sitting with my aunt Rita at her kitchen table. The overhead light, circular, fluorescent, is dimmer and cooler than I am used to. In that room that morning, the light has volume the way water does and everything feels isolated, discrete, yet retains its vividness. Now I remember: we’re drinking coffee, or she’s drinking coffee, and we’re talking about cigarettes which I smoke at that time and maybe just did prior to this meeting but definitely at the time. She hasn’t smoked in many years and is gently prodding me to think about quitting. Not to quit but just to think about it.
Don’t I get tired of it, she asks? Doesn’t it make me feel bad? I tell her no and I don’t know. She asks me if I know what she hated most about it and I say of course not and we laugh. Of course not, she says. What I hated most was always having to make sure I had them with me, that every time I left the room or the house, I had to make sure I had them with me. It used to drive me crazy, such a crazy thing to worry about. Don’t you worry about that? I tell her I don’t, that I always have them with me, and if I do forget them or run out, I just buy more. She smiles. Of course you do, she says.
Las Vegas, NV
“Las
Ellen Reid ~ Big Majestic | A Closer Listen
I’ve been listening to Big Majestic quite a bit these last weeks and find that further listening yields further reward. Review and sample via the link above.
Ellen Reid ~ Big Majestic | A Closer Listen
I’ve been listening to Big Majestic quite a bit these last weeks and find that further listening yields further reward. Review and sample via the link above.
Very excited about this new release from Isaiah Collier and the Chosen Few. The last couple of Collier releases weren’t to my taste and this one is more like it.
This track, the opener, is very much in the same McCoy Tyner vein as KAmasi Washington’s “Changing of the Guard.”
The rest of the album heads in more conventional spiritual jazz territory with dignity, skill, and conviction. Collier is the real deal and if I’m not always into his experiments, I always respect that he’s going for it.
Junked Cars, Planes, Trains
Artfully Arranged Junkyard Objects
In a continuation and tweak of his Coletivos project (which I posted about previously), Cássio Vasconcellos took aerial photos of scrapyards and arranged the junked cars, planes, trains, and other objects into dense photographic collages.
I can’t imagine how much Photoshop work these pieces require.
Las Vegas, NV
Las Vegas, NV
Las Vegas, NV
Las Vegas, NV
Las Vegas, NV
Las Vegas, NV
Las Vegas, NV
Las Vegas, NV
Isis, when she offered the model of lamentation to the first Egyptians, said in her lamentation that when eyes do not see, eyes desire.
Pascal Quignard
Jamaica, NY
Currently posting from the air en route to play the first Best Friends Forever Festival in Las Vegas. We’re on tomorrow afternoon but the festivities start today. Looking forward to seeing friends and family performing and attending alike.
Lancaster, PA