Actually, Love Tends To Bloom Between People Who Are Not Just At Their Best, But Performing Well Past

There was still such optimism about the future, then.

“Space station” by Denise Watt-Geiger, 1979.

Yep. That's about the shape of the roads I tend to find myself on.

Find the long and winding road home.  By karl_shakur

It will continue down this trajectory inexorably for the remaining years.

The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (2004) dir. Wes Anderson

The Band Scary Pockets performing a soulful iteration of Radiohead’s 1993 anti-anthem, “Creep” (On Youtube at https://youtu.be/tcNuPheBQgU)

Well that was incredible. The singer was just pouring out a heart rending, soulful rendition of Creep that would make your chest shudder.  Her possessed  driven voice was looking to smash right out of that room, like a gail force from massive unseen pipes.  She could turn from whisper to soaring then back.  

Meanwhile, the backing band  played a giddily infectious and genial vamp, like it just went right over their heads that Creep is a devastatingly sorrowful song–not melancholy, but acute anguish, bereaved loss as a freely gushing wound that doesn’t heal.But no, they carried entire duration  of the song–like it was jauntily amiable, laid back and with the purest kind of no-fucks-to-give, bounce in its gait.  For me, it recalled the sensation and storied feel of Herbie Hancock’s Fat Albert Rotunda, or the lope along good natured Linus and Lucy theme from countless Peanuts animated specials–which only added to the thick warm mallow feeling it stirred in me.  

Her voice railed with loneliness and loss.  It’s sonorous dolor filled the air enveloping the rhythm section, but instead of leaching the vitality out of them, it was like they just absorbed her energy for juice.  It cranked the mood coming off them from dopey laissez-faire to jubilation, the loping feel of the rhythm’s stride shifted subtly, rising in mood to a march. Then up from march to a joyous victory dance  without changing any tempo, dynamic, or orchestration, just like they appropriated the agony energy of her song and transformed it into an aural ecstasy  more suited to a dervish. 

********** 

More info on them, pasted from Youtube:

Subscribe: http://bit.ly/2IwGwQc

Official Website: https://scarypocketsfunk.com

Stories Channel: https://youtube.com/channel/UC-yUK_2H... 

Facebook: https://facebook.com/scarypockets

Instagram: https://instagram.com/scarypockets

Twitter: https://twitter.com/scarypockets

Bandcamp: https://scarypockets.bandcamp.com

Musicians Vocals: India Carney Bass: Sam Wilkes Drums: Lemar Carter Guitar: Ryan Lerman Wurlitzer: Jack Conte  (who you might recognise from Pomplamoose) Recording Engineer: Pete Min

I'm pushing 50. The median age of a Canadian male is 39. We are beginning the decline into an aging society, and yet various inteterests keep stripmining the healthcare system, making it wobblier, less efficient, more expensive. And eventually y, after those interests hobble the system, they say, "see, you've had your socialist experiment and it went as expected"

Reblog if you’re 30 or older

This is an experiment to see if there really are as few of us as people think.You can also use this to freak out your followers who think you’re 25 or something. Yay!

have a nice day :)

It's still a few days til new years. My half ass goal for the next year will be to remain up this side of the soil. Mr. Gaiman, what the bugnuts is the Good Madness?

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

— Neil Gaiman (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

prude isnt a label like "dumbass" its a condemnation of any girl who doesnt act in alignment with the standard of beauty. wrap your head around it

no, it's not, you're just oversensitive to any criticism and somehow have been raised to feel you should never be criticized. You don't know how to be an adult and cope with the world, so you just run around making demands and declarations. Do you know who I hear making condemnations? People like you. All day long. If you can't be bothered to learn the language, you shouldn't speak. Prude is not a gendered word, it can be a relevant descriptor for anyone unduly nervous, inhibited and uncomfortable with sexual matters. Beauty, and the supposed standards you allude to are not relevant. See, so what happens is you walk around ranting about how unfair the world is and its oh just so mean, but no one even knows what you are saying because you can't be bothered to use words accurately--its another sick entitled expectation people today have, they think a word means whatever whim crosses their airy heads in that moment, and expect everyone to fall in line--and then they have the temerity to say that it is they who are being oppressed. There has never been a generation in history so coddled, so spoiled, so comforted with special privileges and extra care for your endless feelings about everything, and puritanical rules everywhere so you never have to be uncomfortable and what did it accomplish? Whiny narcissistic baby tyrants who can't be made satisfied, ever, and feel absolute entitlement to dictate to others. It is loathsome and repellant. And it isn't a healthy or productive way to live. It's people like you who are always telling people how they should behave, believe, talk. That's the fucking ideologically driven normative force I see in the world: not your oppressors, but you. A whole generation of personality disordered morality police with zero self accountability of their own. Who the fuck would want to listen to you? Enfant terrible. That's a term too, with a definition. G wrap your whiny head around a fucking dictionary and grow up.

Get it together - via http://ift.tt/1MCkt3S