Sunday, May 31, 2009

Kafka Covers

Re-published by Penguin

Friday, May 29, 2009

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Paris-Roubaix 1976 - The Hell of the North (Documentary)

Freeman's Sporting Club

Where I go to get my shirts, a haircut, dinner and a drink.
Located on Rivington between Chryistie and the Bowery

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Friday, May 22, 2009

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Edge of Vision

A show up at the Aperture Gallery (West 27 between 10 and 11 ave) curated by my future critique teacher, Lyle Rexer. Also in the show, professors past and present, Silvio Wolf and Penelope Umbrico. The show will be up from May 15th to July 9th.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Blind Spot

Friday, May 15, 2009

Current Read

"An exuberantly sprawling, politicaly charged picaresque novel that follows two literary sleuths on their quixotic quest for a long-lost poet through the feverish Mexican dessert, with decade-bending, sleight-of-hand pit stops in Paris, London, Mexico City and Tel-Aviv."

- Elle

Roberto Bolano

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Directionless Travel

I need to be on a sailboat again. I miss traveling
with only the sound of the water passing by and
destination or direction being the last of my
worries. You are never "there" until you want
to be.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

A Letter

My Dear Medame,

I just noticed that I forgot my cane at your
house yesterday; please be good enough to
give it to the bearer of this letter.

P.S. Kindly pardon me for disturbing you;
I just found my cane.

Marcel Proust

Sartorial Geniuses

James Dean

Steve McQueen

Jean-Paul Belmondo


John F. Kennedy

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Virginia Wolf

With some irony in her interrogation, for when one woke at all, one's relations changed, she looked at the steady light, the pitiless, the remorseless, which was so much her, yet so little her, which had her at its beck and call (she woke in the night and saw it bent across their bed, stroking the floor), but for all that she thought, watching it with fascination, hypnotized, as if it were stroking with its silver fingers some sealed vessel in her brain who's bursting would flood her with delight, she had known happiness, and it silvered the rough waves a little more brightly, as daylight faded, and the blue went out of the sea and it rolled in waves of pure lemon which curved and swelled and broke upon the beach and the ecstasy burst in her eyes and waves of pure delight raced over the floor of her mind and she felt, It is enough, It is enough!

Excerpt from To the Lighthouse