Current status: I love the feeling of new possibilities.
“Ho Hey” by The Lumineers
this might work
I have a fire inside
If by a “Liberal” they mean someone who looks ahead and not behind, someone who welcomes new ideas without rigid reactions, someone who cares about the welfare of the people-their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights and their civil liberties-someone who believes we can break through the stalemate and suspicions that grip us in our policies abroad, if that is what they mean by a “Liberal”, then I’m proud to say I’m a “Liberal.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy was born 95 years ago today. (via think-progress)
I’ve had this hanging on my wall since I was 20 years old.
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Who wants to play?
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I suppose I’m afraid to write about it, because if I write it, in one story, in one way, then that’s the only way that it happened.
Can’t wait! Two days of speakers, designers, and bands, all in the rad neighborhood of Detroit Shoreway. Some highlights I’m looking forward to: hearing Austin Kleon, Kate Bingaman Burt, Johnny Cupcakes, Rachel Novak, Mike Kubinski, and Jackie Bebenroth talk; seeing the work of These Are Things, Bandito Design, Go Media, Three Bears Design, and Studio Ace of Spade; and checking out Cloud Nothings, Empire! Empire!, Signals Midwest, and Afternoon Naps.
You should go, too!
(P.S. Sorry this post is link-heavy. I get carried away sometimes.)
Then, mid-bite, it hits me. The idea.
It seems like ideas always sneak up on you when you’re not ready. Hands full; mouth full; without a pen; shitting; running; driving; fucking; showering; parasailing; whatever. You want to yell, “Get out of here, god damn ideas! Why don’t you come back when I’m ready?” You swat the air like flies are around you. At least I do. Then come the looks.
Ideas are a son of a bitch like that, because they always come when you are least prepared to preserve them. Inspiration is like some sort of weird collision, where the idea is always sweeping across the landscape, through the neighborhood, or in and out the bedroom window. For that idea to hit you, you must be moving as well. If you’re standing still, the idea will whip right around you and keep going. It is like some sort of weird reverse game of chicken, where the sole way to make contact is by trying to miss one another. The only other things with the perfect and unfortuate timing of good ideas are the internal clocks of long-forgotten ex’s that tells them to appear everywhere during the first couple weeks of a new relationship.
via Frank Chimero
Yesterday I had a…moment, for lack of a better word. I call it a moment even though I’m not sure if it qualifies; it lasted just an instant, less than a second. I felt clarity. I felt calm. I felt at ease.
I was sitting in stop-and-go traffic on the eastbound West Shoreway during my morning commute, the sun shining and the skyline of Cleveland laid out before me, listening to an old Incubus record of all things. To say I was not in a great mood would be an understatement, as anyone who knows me will tell you what little patience I have for traffic. And then it happened. Like an electric shock to my mind.
The moment lifted almost before it started, of course, and I was back to the reality of the situation. Ever since, I’ve been trying to recall as accurately as possible the feeling I had, the truth that descended on me. It was truly wonderful.
It seemed almost serendipitous that I found the blog post the quote at the top was pulled from waiting in my RSS feed when I got to work a half hour after the moment had happened. After this experience, I can say, much as Frank does, that I know what I need to do now, and it’s the last thing on earth that I expected.
gq:
You stay classy, Ron Burgundy.
Out-f*cking-standing!
Update: Funny or Die has a trailer!
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly.
- T.R. Roosevelt. La Sorbonne. April, 1910. (via sarahkathleenpeck)
I’ve had a copy of this hanging on my wall since I was 20.
I know a lot of folks in CLE are excited about this, but it makes me sick. Defacing Public Square, the heart of downtown. Just. So. Tacky.
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