Art vs. Anatomy

There is something inherently beautiful about the inner-workings of the human body. Crack open a anatomy book and you will see an infinite number of biological systems, all independent of each other, yet all working together to bring life to design. Organelles, cells, tissue, organs, organs systems each with a specific role selected through millions of year of evolution. Ashkahn Honarvar portrays this beautifully in this piece about life, science and human nature. 

Place Bag Over Head...Now Inhale...and...Hold...

Lately I've been having quite a bit of anxiety about turning 30 in a few months. To my surprise, there in the mirror this morning, was this little stand of white reality staring back at me—my very first gray hair. One little invader among my amber-coloured locks substantiating my fears that I'm getting old. I could almost hear it taunting me. What a huge kick to the gonads that was! Is this what they mean when they talk about "the moment" you realize you're not a kid anymore.

Having graduated from university at 28, I got to pretty well avoid being a productive member of society for a lot longer than most and continue to behave as an unruly college-kid (yay, pub crawls). But at 30, people start expecting all sorts of grown up things from you. You're suppose to look and act and dress your age. Whatever, I still maintain that there's nothing uncouth about pretend fart noises.

My boyfriend tells me that there's a huge sense of relief that comes over you once your finally passed the threshold and says he enjoys getting older. When I ask why he says, "you learn to feel comfortable in your own skin and learn more about who you are". I suppose once groundhog day actually passes I'll  stop waking up in a panic about the impending dooms-day and whether or not I've done enough with my life and just relax. Although, he also says the plural of moose should be meece, so he might not be the most reliable source.

In any case, I'm off to go make irresponsible decisions while I still can.

Dear South Carolina,

We might be elitist liberal scum, but at least we're better than you!

Laz
(in Canada)
http://www.thesunnews.com/575/story/1276292.html

Labware Lighting

If you've spent as much time in a lab as I have, eventually you start to get bored—really, really bored—and start thinking about how to get a little creative with the equipment. Anyone who's ever used latex gloves as water balloons or graduated cylinders as light-sabers knows exactly what I'm talking about. Perhaps that's what inspired this designer. Proving that art and science can exist in the same realm of time and space.

designer Benjamin Hubert

Eat your words!

When I was a kid I used to think alphabet soup was the shit but this is takes the cake.

These Helvetica cookie cutters designed by Beverly Hsu make delicious, serif-free pastries.

(via Jason Fields, photographed by Drew)

outpatient

People in doctors' offices have got to be the most depressing group of shit-heads ever assembled. Even worse in walk in clinics. They just sit there starring into the abyss waiting for their names to be called. What the hell is so important about their lives that they need to get back to? The women with front-butt that sits across from me (bingo must be about to start); the man who stares worriedly at the floor hunched over (it must be a tumour); the old women with the mask who keeps hacking into it (why quit now?); the; the absurd lady in the corner (she must have a couple of dead cats in here ten-gallon purse). The poor secretaries in thee places. They all must be on prozac to deal with these fuck-wads day after day.

I used to go to this one "woman's clinic" when I was younger. There, abve the stirrups table was a picture of baby. bunnies. Baby bunnies! Perhaps the picture was suppose to make the frigid metal speculum seem slightly more pleasant. Or perhaps it was justsuppose to remind you that we were still children and shouldn't be there in the first place.

Differences in perception

It's Saturday afternoon and I sit tucked away in the corner of some coffee shop, reading a book that I simply cant put down. Having opted for this location to watch the snow flakes dancing just beyond the window – the snow was falling and it made everything that it touched sparkle. The air was crisp and clean that day; it was the kind of day that makes you happy to be alive and makes everything seem anew.

I look up from my book and out of the corner of my eye I see him walking towards me. I feel a slight anxiety brewing under my skin. He smiles when he sees that Ive noticed him. He has a glowing smile. I smile a little too.

He greets me with a warm hug and I feel the nervousness of our meeting melting away within me. As I listen to him speak I cant help but notice the kind air about him. He seems to have such a passion for life and positive energy. He puts his hand on the small of my back frequently, as if to get my attention. When I look away, I notice him staring at me from the corner of my eye, but when I look back he just laughs. He makes me laugh with ease. We drift back into a great conversation and before we know it, hours have passed by in the span of minutes. However, it is dark now and we must part ways.

As Im walking away, I glance back and notice him still looking at me. I smile. I leave glowing from the days events and the anticipation of what comes next...

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It's Saturday afternoon. I just woke up and barely managed to gather all my limbs and crawl into the nearest coffee shop. Some babe is frenetically reading a book and can't seem to be able to put it down. Must be a chick book. This place is usually dead and it's a wonder it's still open: there's never anyone here. They must be selling drugs or something. Crazy snow outside, why isn't it spring already, I wonder. I love the first true warm days of spring, where no matter what shit hits your fan, you can't help but smile and feel truly alive.

The book worm looked up from her book and caught me smiling at the thoughts of spring. She smiled back. I just realized that I forgot my lighter at home, and I gotta have a smoke with my first morning coffee… maybe miss Harlequin's got a light. I walk over toward her and now she's looking at me with anxiety. This will take some diplomacy, I don't want to stumble on an anti-smoker-that-has-the-right-to-tell-you-how-to-live, so I give her my best smile but I probably look like a bulldog protecting his drooled-over slipper. It kind of worked and she smiled back, although she might be smiling at the waiter by the cash. I don't know.

For some reason, when I reached her table, she got up. Can't let her escape to the bathroom before I get a light so I grab her by the waist and pretend to hug her, feeling quickly with my right hand for something resembling a lighter in her pockets. I feel her breasts moving up and down with her breath as we're hugging and I'm more than slightly turned on, so now I have to sit and hide the bulge in my pants, but miss Harlequin remains standing. I start telling her about how much I love my coffee & cigarette, how they're, like, the ultimate champion's breakfast but she's not really listening. A few times, I tried to pull her down to get her to sit down again, but she wouldn't move. I feel like I could pull down her pants, right here in the coffee shop, and she wouldn't react. She must've bought some of the drugs they must be selling here… Or trying to decide whether to run away screaming. I'm not sure. I try to get a reaction by telling bad blonde jokes and she just about died laughing. That's me, Bozo the Clown.

She eventually caught on that she was still standing and sat back down. Since I'm not officially awake yet, my mind wanders in all directions and we ended up talking about how the Lord of the Rings is really just a metaphor for women's p.m.s.

Eventually, miss Harlequin gets up and leaves. That's when I notice it's dark outside and I realize she never gave me a light. She glances back at me and sees me looking back. She smiles and starts walking away again. I get up to run after her, but the waiter tackles me at the door. I forgot to pay for my coffee.

2007

Park bench

Wait for me

I'll be back someday

maybe not right now

maybe not for a while

not even when you pray

i see your eyes

darting the path

not I

maybe the next

maybe behind him

crumpling little yellow things

under your feet

unscathed

tracing your fingers

over the engravings of lovers past

and wrinkled oak

wait for me

i will return

you won't recognize me

but i'll be there

Art Imitating Life Imitating Art...

Ever feel like you're trapped in some bad movie but can't run screaming out of the theatre? Of course, if my life were actually a movie it would probably include the following:

1. bad plot

2. no script

3. crappy dialogue

4. lousy actors

5. no budget

6. no character resolution

7. too much drama

and to boot 8. an all david bowie soundtrack

Hello World!

This is my first blog. I've wanted to for years but somehow it always seems hard to get your thoughts out of the ol' noggin. But I figured it was time get out of my own head and empty my brain into the inter-webs.