Words are powerful little things. They fill up our tiny screens and pieces of paper like ants crawling across the page, seemingly going somewhere in a hurry, carrying a humongous weight on their bags for us, each word being so important and yet as mindless as a drone in the hive of things.

We write, we read, we savour the sound of each word and the rhythm of each sentence, letting it out in staccatos, smooth eloquence, agitated shouts, em-pha-tic punctuations. Words give us our thoughts, our intelligence, our experiences and our lives.

I haven’t been so in tune with YMFY recently, but sometimes something good does seem to appear after I’ve given up hope. Tumblr has a purpose after all.


His female characters tuck their hair behind their ears intimately, an immediate and foreign precursor to sex. Often compared to shells, or admired for their almost newborn freshness, these orifices encompass what Murakami’s women represent: virgin territory, a space to fill and colonize, a new order of things. Never, outside of a David Lynch film, have ears been so fetishized. (via)

I was surprised because I never noticed this. It was taken from an article on:
It’s a nice article trying to explain Murakami’s writings, if that’s even possible.


For what it’s worth … it’s never too late, or in my case too early, to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit. Start whenever you want. You can change or stay the same. There are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people who have a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of, and if you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.
-Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button screenplay

Benjamin Button was a nice movie. I remember it fondly, not for Brad Pitt, or his great makeup artist, but that it was different. It was an almost lame premise, but it was done well, it was emotive, it was purposeful, it wasn’t just to show off the effects. You felt for the characters. There was a struggle. There wasn’t a easy simple happy ending. It was an ENDING, we saw it coming, kind of. They enjoyed the Present. They enjoyed the Ending the only way they could, in perhaps a perverse twisted way, but that’s so much more true, more real, more believable. Happiness and pain in a sweet and tart swirly soft-serve cone.

On a side note, ice cream is such a.. ?????. It’s cold, it’s so fragile. You get great enjoyment in the moment of eating. It doesn’t last. It leaves you thirsty, sticky. You cannot delay eating it. There is a high chance you might drop it or drip. It’s largely unhealthy. It’s fun, it’s happy. Ugh.

I think beauty is in the way you carry yourself, it’s in your words, it’s in your silence, your pauses. It’s in how firmly you step on the ground, be it in flats or in heels. It is a how a man can stand with his hands in his pocket, gazing out even if he doesn’t know what he’s going to do next. It is how ephemeral this video is http://vimeo.com/54429171# and how accidental it can be. It’s so hard to describe my kind of beauty. 500px.com is not beautiful, it is pixel perfect, pose perfect, but not beautiful. Facebook is raw, but now beautiful. Flickr had alot of beauty and meaning. TheBigPicture is beautiful. iPhone photos can be as beautiful as DSLRs in the hands of noob tourists can be ugly – a tool without meaning, purpose or desire.

And to round off, a video with frames processed through instagram: http://vimeo.com/53426724


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