MOTTO PANUKEIKU
Install Theme

Paris Review - Language Itself Resists, Werner Herzog →

"A vision had seized hold of me, like the demented fury of a hound that has sunk its teeth into the leg of a deer carcass and is shaking and tugging at the downed game so frantically that the hunter gives up trying to calm him. it was the vision of a large steamship scaling a hill under its own steam, working its way up a steep slope in the jungle, while above this natural landscape, which shatters the weak and the strong with equal ferocity, soars the voice of Caruso, silencing all the pain and all the voices of the primeval forest and drowning out all birdsong. To be more precise: bird cries, for in this setting, left unfinished and abandoned by God in wrath, the birds do not sing; they shriek in pain, and confused trees tangle with one another like battling titans, from horizon to horizon, in a steaming creation still being formed. Fog-panting and exhausted they stand in this unreal world, in unreal misery—and I, like a stanza in a poem written in an unknown foreign tongue, am shaken to the core."

bloodpactgirlscout:

so the saddest shortest story is attributed to hemingway:
"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
and this came to me at breakfast and i thought it was hilarious. 

True story.

bloodpactgirlscout:

so the saddest shortest story is attributed to hemingway:

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

and this came to me at breakfast and i thought it was hilarious. 

True story.

(via nowisthewinter)

THIS FUCKING MOVIE

More here.

(Source: vimeo.com)

This is how you do author photos.

This is how you do author photos.

Weird hou men
Maun aye be makin war
Insteid o things they need

— Tom Scott, Brand the Builder

Hugh C Rae Obituary →

Just picked this up from Allan Guthrie’s Twitter. Very sad news.

newyorker:

In the early nineteen-seventies, a small group of photographers set out to document what they understood to be real British life. Take a look at their postcards, now on view as part of an exhibition of the Co-Optic archive at the Brighton Photo Biennial.
“Enoch Powell Electioneering,” 1970. Photograph by Paul Hill / Courtesy Brighton Photo Biennial.

newyorker:

In the early nineteen-seventies, a small group of photographers set out to document what they understood to be real British life. Take a look at their postcards, now on view as part of an exhibition of the Co-Optic archive at the Brighton Photo Biennial.

“Enoch Powell Electioneering,” 1970. Photograph by Paul Hill / Courtesy Brighton Photo Biennial.

(Source: newyorker.com)

Meanwhile, in Italy …
(also #2 in Gialli e Thriller)
To say that this is surprising is a colossal understatement. I’m putting it down to Marco Piva’s translation, myself. Or black magic. Probably both. You should see him shake his juju bag - it’s sensational.
If you don’t read Italian and want to see what all the (momentary and completely flukey) fuss is about, you can pick it up it up here or here for real cheap, like.

Meanwhile, in Italy …

(also #2 in Gialli e Thriller)

To say that this is surprising is a colossal understatement. I’m putting it down to Marco Piva’s translation, myself. Or black magic. Probably both. You should see him shake his juju bag - it’s sensational.

If you don’t read Italian and want to see what all the (momentary and completely flukey) fuss is about, you can pick it up it up here or here for real cheap, like.

saturdayboy:

One year on, and Hollywood still hasn’t done anything about this.