Perhaps it isn’t about having the courage to take that step off of the edge and fall into the unknown. Maybe the truth lies a lot closer to understanding just what exists there, and honing the ability to slow your fall to land in just the right place.
…or having the wherewithal and fearlessness to reach deep into the ether and pull that fate up toward yourself. It’s really a matter of knowing when to have your eyes open, and what to focus on, and that comes with experience, not from a book.
Eagerly awaiting my next rejection letter from the good folks at Taschen regarding the sample from my latest art book idea.
It’s a coffee table photography book which explores the subgenre of “found art,” with special emphasis the on the oft-overlooked importance of Ochre and Burnt Umber pigment. While many could argue that a lot has been written on the subject of these colors with regard to underpainting, my magnum opus spins a unique yarn as a photographic exploration of underwear which really holds its own from front to back.
The Scratch-N-Sniff variation holds a lot of potential, though. Using today’s technology, one could really capture the essence.
Little-known fact about Christmas Eve, via Brian’s “Lost History and Other Shit They Can’t Be Bothered to Teach You in School and Stuff Secret Bunker of Knowledge”.
Today’s installment: “All Things Are Delicately Interconnected Via Rubbers.”
Pining for his never-to-be love interest on this day back in 1933, Albert Einstein pens a letter to the woman he’s become smitten with, one Marie Curie from his New Jersey study as his wife prepares their usual evening treat, a fifth of wood alcohol and an eight ball chaser. Unbeknownst to Mrs. E, her husband is about to make history once again; this time in the field of photography.
After snapping the world’s first selfie (on the world’s first instant film camera, no less; the man was a fucking pioneer), he inscribes the photo with the words “Me equals meat squared,” and sends the image off to his crush.
Her second husband at the time, Stanley Czeirnitkovielskiweicz intercepts the pornographic portrait, and proceeds to poison his wife – whom he incorrectly perceives as being unfaithful – by utilizing a glow-in-the-dark condom that night, which he fashions from lambskin coated with radium-laced, self-luminous paint.
While the prudish history books of old may tell of her death being the result of she and her first husband Pierre staring for hours at a glowing batch of radium extracted from pitchblende, the cold reality was that it was a warm, glowing rod that sealed her fate years later via a photograph of a very disturbed (and naked) German, thus sparking the Polish-German war of 1934. As we all know, the war cam to an end with the Treaty of Lubin, wherein private manufacture of condoms was outlawed, and as a blanket punishment for the Polish people in general (based unfairly by virtue of his last name alone – Stanley was actually a Korean immigrant living under an assumed name), the Polack joke, once considered taboo, was to become the go-to icebreaker of choice in all pubs across Europe.
It’s not merely the spelling of their last names which provided for an incredibly diverse life for two gentlemen, but the careers of Smokey Yunick and Smokey Eunuch couldn’t have been any more different if they had planned them.
Let’s peek in on another family meal, shall we?
“You, uh, have something on one of your chins.”
“No… Go like nine lower.”
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!! Someone is trying to KILL ME!! Just HOW IN THE FUCK did THAT get in there?! What in the…”