Creativity takes courage.

Chromatic Typewriter

(via unicorn-meat-is-too-mainstream)

“Along the coastline of the ocean of air where our unsinkable cloud fleet sails in file.”

your drums, your love… really digging this video

unfolds like a circular C….

Really liking the mellow dancey vibes of the new Toro y Moi album :) 

Dreamed of gently walking over a grassy knoll avoiding with my steps the tiny half-burrowed furry backs of little animals. Prairie dogs, tiny skunks and rodent like quivering balls were half buried in the ground, trembling beneath a translucent dusting of earth..for as far as my eye could see…

Well, its about that time when I feel old because here a mainstream Ke$ha completely brings back the spirit of happy hardcore back to life (in a kinda good happy go-lucky) way.. its super cheesy but maybe because it conjures up the mid 90s for me, I like it.

How astonishing it is that language can almost mean,
and frightening that it does not quite. Love, we say,
God, we say, Rome and Michiko, we write, and the words
get it all wrong. We say bread and it means according
to which nation. French has no word for home,
and we have no word for strict pleasure. A people
in northern India is dying out because their ancient
tongue has no words for endearment. I dream of lost
vocabularies that might express some of what
we no longer can. Maybe the Etruscan texts would
finally explain why the couples on their tombs
are smiling. And maybe not. When the thousands
of mysterious Sumerian tablets were translated,
they seemed to be business records. But what if they
are poems or psalms? My joy is the same as twelve
Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light.
O Lord, thou art slabs of salt and ingots of copper,
as grand as ripe barley lithe under the wind’s labor.
Her breasts are six white oxen loaded with bolts
of long-fibered Egyptian cotton. My love is a hundred
pitchers of honey. Shiploads of thuya are what
my body wants to say to your body. Giraffes are this
desire in the dark. Perhaps the spiral Minoan script
is not laguage but a map. What we feel most has
no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.

-Jack Gilbert

A big change allows you to make another change. It’s a practice leap.

#stanthonychapel #troyhill #catholic #relic #Pittsburgh

In your breast I carry the form, the heart of the earth and the weapons of warmth.

Diotima, 

All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life are made up of light and shade! 

…this morning i am brimming with gratitude.