AND THEN I’M LIKE:
If there’s one thing that is consistent about London, it’ll be the chaotically inconsistent weather of the British isles. This is indeed, ’ the empire on which the sun never sets ’ for the sun never rises. Nevertheless, even the miserable souls of the British isles, forever condemned with one of the most infamous meteorological disaster under heaven, are not devoid of their redemption. The vast colonies in the exotic tropics might be long gone , but since then we have discovered budget airlines and a place called Spain, woohoo.
London Town, a place bestowed upon with the best humanity could offer, (few of which are British, London Underground being one of the rare exceptions) even in its gloomiest state, has a place for all. My life is no short of hearing anger and discontent towards London, yet despite its ample transport infrastructures, ideal for a refugee outflow, plenty of rail tracks and bridges for suicidal souls, London has not perished. Quite the contrary, it has offered sanctuaries for all, post-colonials , racists, Marxists, capitalists, the rich, the poor. For someone with a London-centric sense of existence, chaos is certainly the natural states of the universe. Indisputably, London, being heaven’s most generous gift to humanity, accommodates all, existential vacuum, poverty and extravagance alike. In this enclave of some eight million souls, of both asylum seekers and Russian tycoons, everyone was offered a place. It is indeed chaotic, but nonetheless pluralistic and tolerant, that even those who doesn’t want to be here find it hard to leave.
It is impossible to register how many complaints we have lodged against the London weather lately, yes, it is shit, miserable, gloomy or to put it nicely: melancholic ,disconsolate or doleful. To make sure that I can enjoy the suicidal pissdrop to its fullest the sadistic bus driver decided to terminate the bus in a soulless territory: the city. Can you recall the time you wasted tirelessly defending London weather, mate , its not that bad. That’s one more reason for time traveling, go back in time and tell yourself shut the f up. I get it, rainy nights can be beautiful, you can engage in abstruse philosophisation whilst watching the beautiful diffraction of taillights and street lights through the raindrops on your window, light up a cigaret on your balcony and immerse yourself in the sound of raindrops ( shut it you homophobics). OR, there’s you, all soaked and your lack of creativity determines that your only mode of transport home is to walk. It is exhausting enough being alive, on top of that we have to take care of our body and soul, drag them to an empty house and put them to sleep, at the same time. What I do makes little sense, my mood depends solely on the weather, yet Ive spent the past 4 years chasing rains and winter, the person I chose to love, the food I chose to eat, that jumper I putted on this morning, all of which remains inexplicable thus far. However, they were indeed my choices, choices which I have no choice but to accept. It’s so easy to go all Lana de ray, my fridge is full of dead corpses of other lifeforms whilst lust and hunger deprave me of my soul and leave me with an empty shell. yet the solution is astonishingly simple: lying on a sunny beaches. Again, it makes little sense sitting here fabricating a fraudulent existential crisis, but sorry London you leave me no choice.
Window Seat by Matt Low
Is it wonder? Wistfulness? Whatever it is we all know that feeling when gazing out the window of an airplane. Brooklyn-based photographer Matt Low shot this amazing series showing people in the window seat of a plane gazing out. In this series, called Window Seat, Low explores the universal fascination with looking down from a place far above. Explaining Window Seat, Low says, “The Window Seat series… is my attempt to capture on other peoples faces the feeling I have of being compelled to stare out of the window when I fly. I fly a lot… I find looking down endlessly fascinating–it’s one of the few times that I still get a thrill of child-like amazement… I like to think that on the inside, the people I capture have that feeling too.”
In a crazy dimension where everyone would look like bodybuilding fanatics, this is how it more or less would look like. Belgian photographer Kurt Stallaert succeeded in creating a realistic series of manipulated photographs envisioning a world of super-human children in an ordinary day-to-day setting. This blend somehow creates an intriguing sense of surreal curiosity that makes you look want to look twice before going to the next picture.
Crash Course World History #25 - The Spanish Empire, Silver, & Runaway Inflation
In which John Green explores how Spain went from being a middling European power to one of the most powerful empires on Earth, thanks to their plunder of the New World in the 16th and 17th centuries. Learn how Spain managed to destroy the two biggest pre-Columbian civilizations, mine a mountain made of silver, mishandle their economy, and lose it all by the mid-1700s. Come along for the roller coaster ride with Charles I (he was also Charles V), Philip II, Atahualpa, Moctezuma, Hernán Cortés, and Francisco Pizarro as Spain rises and falls, and takes two empires and China down with them.
“ The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug. ”
Halló, this is Iceland.
This is a photograph of my Reykjavík. It looks like a toy city, but don’t tell my humans. It might make them very agitated and set them off on a tirade in Icelandic that you wil probably not understand.
“ The conquests of the market are made by grabbing control and no longer by disciplinary training, by fixing the exchange rate much more than by lowering costs, by transformation of the product more than by specialization of production. Corruption thereby gains a new power. Marketing has become the center or the “soul” of the corporation. We are taught that corporations have a soul, which is the most terrifying news in the world. The operation of markets is now the instrument of social control and forms the impudent breed of our masters. Control is short-term and of rapid rates of turnover, but also continuous and without limit, while discipline was of long duration, infinite and discontinuous. Man is no longer man enclosed, but man in debt. It is true that capitalism has retained as a constant the extreme poverty of three-quarters of humanity, too poor for debt, too numerous for confinement: control will not only have to deal with erosions of frontiers but with the explosions within shanty towns or ghettos. ”