08/25 - The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993)
Just because I cannot see it
Doesn’t mean I can’t believe it
I needed to reblog. because these are perfect.
(via belatedmedia)
october moon
{wandering like a fool through the halls of a blue hotel}
twitter | last.fm | 8tracks | polyvore | myspace
twitter | last.fm | 8tracks | polyvore | myspace
Dec 09
Dec 06
classic.
Nov 26
(via mayapierce)
Nov 08
(Source: aurum-design, via gghhoosstt)
Nov 04
Heart of Glass: The Art of Medical Models
Gary Farlow can make art out of arteries. He and his team of 10 at Farlow’s Scientific Glassblowing are able to transform the body’s vasculature—and nearly all of its other parts—into an ornate borosilicate glass sculpture, from the heart’s ventricles to the brain’s circle of Willis. “We do almost every part of the body,” Farlow says. “It can take a pretty artistic mind to make some of these things.” With the help of cardiologists, the team creates custom see-through systems for science and medical training. Their anatomically correct models can be designed to simulate blood flow, teach placement of catheters and angioplasty devices, or simply test or demo new surgical gizmos. Individual arteries, veins, and capillaries are shaped and fused together, one at a time. Ground-glass joints are added at the exposed ends so a head, say, can be connected to the carotid arteries should customers want to expand their model. A full-body setup could cost $25,000, so don’t get any bright ideas about using one as a brandy decanter.
Nov 03
(Source: bustrkeatn, via gghhoosstt)
Oct 29
Post-It-Horrors by John Klenn
The secret miracle of office supplies is that they can be used in inventive ways to kill time or, in John Klenn’s Post-It note illustrations, they can kill you. And probably will. Klenn is a master at making a yellow paper square a tiny window into vintage macabre twisteries. My Angel Shrimp is but a pale imitation.
Artist: Blogspot (via: Lost at E Minor)
Oct 28
(Source: nyflunkie)
Oct 25
» so much joy it hurts: Sonnet for a Tango in the Twilight by Jorge Luis Borges
Who was it that said it all in a homegrown tango
Whose drawn-out, lovely sweetness made me pause
Under some unassuming little balconies
In that leafy neighbourhood that isn’t even yours?
All I know is that in its sorrow I saw a simple yard
Within whose earthen walls the whole sunset fit,
A place I’d glimpsed a few months ago in some slum,
And that I loved you more than ever, hearing it.
Caught in that music, I stayed there on the sidewalk
Facing the lonesome moon, the heart of the street,
In the relentless wind that came down driving the night.
That infinite tango pulled me toward everything.
Toward the fresh stars. Toward the chance of being a man.
And toward that clear memory my eyes keep seeking.
Translated by Stephen Kessler
Oct 23
John Votta was 70 years old when he passed. He used to stand on the edge of Washington Square Park and yell the time at passing students rushing to class. A local celebrity around campus, John had gained himself a reputation as a “timekeeper,” but his real goal was to keep kids from getting hit by speeding cars. He was my friend, a good man, and I used to sit and talk with him everyday before my classes began-a nice way to wake up. One day his leg started hurting, and he was in too much pain to use his phone properly. He asked if I could call 911 for him, so I did. I took him to his ambulance, shook his hand, and told him that I’d see him next time. He died at the hospital later that day. RIP Votta, time aged you apart from the rest of us. See you next time
What?! this is awful. he was an oddly huge part of my college experience.
Oct 20
Oct 19
Oct 17
The Civil Wars - If I Didn’t Know Better
