“Angelina Jolie and I, we’re not friends, but when I called her about my human trafficking endeavors, she went all in. And I really appreciated that because there are not a lot of times that you can call upon people in our business and get serious help. She put me in contact with the people I needed to be in contact with, she sent me books, sent me all the information she had. I’m not saying that Angelina and I are, like, girlfriends and kicking it every day, but when you call another woman who’s in a position to lend support to you and she just jumps right in there, that’s sisterhood.”
alien [listen / dl] they would never understand and i would never be able to explain. but for good or ill, i had thrown in my lot with the humans. humans. violent but peace-loving. passionate but cerebral. humane but cruel. impulsive but calculating. generous but selfish. humans. altogether a contradictory and deeply flawed species. and yet… and yet, somehow i knew that they represented the best hope of the galaxy. perhaps the only hope. (an aximili-esgarrouth-isthill mix)01. woodkid - iron (one man ben remix) | 02. elizaveta - hero | 03. marina and the diamonds - the outsider | 04. lorde - bravado | 05. metric - help i’m alive (aetoms remix) | 06. naughty boy ft. bastille - no one’s here to sleep | 07. wye oak - i hope you die | 08. astronaut wife - anywhere in the universe | 09. bastille - get home | 10. sleeping at last - saturn | 11. woodkid - the other side
"The Police say the fire was accidental."
Oh. Riiiiight. The Police. The Ferguson Police. The Police who stepped on and let their dogs urinate on the Mike Brown Memorial. The Ferguson Police who covered up Mike Brown’s shooting, the Police who started martial law and shot rubber and wood bullets into crowds of peaceful protestors. The Ferguson Police. That Police??? I DUNNOOOOOO.
A gallery of ceramic sculpture. It’s rare to feel as if an animal can possess you — inhabit your body, mind and spirit as if it were a new lover exploring all your real and artificial selves. Dress your dogs and cats with as many sweater vests, booties and hats as you want; they’ll never come close to the hybrid human qualities that seductively inhabit the work of Beth Cavener Stichter. This might be, in part, because she views her stone sculptures as portraits — of people she has met briefly in passing or good friends or family. She doubles the uncanny moment by acknowledging that these creatures are self-portraits as well, since the very act of interpreting another’s actions, facial expressions, and intentions says — and betrays — much more about our own fears and desires than the other person. We rarely acknowledge or intellectually wrestle with this flash-fiction judgment that we impose onto friends and strangers alike.