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May 23 2017


The most important writing lesson I ever learned was not in a screenwriting class, but a fiction class.

This was senior year of college.  Most of us had already been accepted into grad school of some sort. We felt powerful, we felt talented, and most of all, we felt artistic.

It was the advanced fiction workshop, and we did an entire round of workshops with everyone’s best stories, their most advanced work, their most polished pieces. It was very technical and, most of all, very artistic.

IE: They were boring pieces of pretentious crap.

Now the teacher was either a genius OR was tired of our shit, and decided to give us a challenge.  Flash fiction, he said. Write something as quickly as possible.  Make it stupid.  Make it not mean a thing, just be a quick little blast of words. 

And, of course, we all got stupid.  Little one and two pages of prose without the barriers that it must be good. Little flashes of characters, little bits of scenarios.

And they were electric.  All of them. So interesting, so vivid, not held back by the need to write important things or artistic things. 

One sticks in my mind even today.  The guys original piece was a thinky, thoughtful piece relating the breaking up of threesomes to volcanoes and uncontrolled eruptions that was just annoying to read. But his flash fiction was this three page bit about a homeless man who stole a truck full of coca cola and had to bribe people to drink the soda so he could return the cans to recycling so he could afford one night with the prostitute he loved.

It was funny, it was heartfelt, and it was so, so, so well written.

And just that one little bit of advice, the write something short and stupid, changed a ton of people’s writing styles for the better.

It was amazing. So go.  Go write something small.  Go write something that’s not artistic.  Go write something stupid. Go have fun.
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Polish Artist Dawid Planeta Illustrates His Fight Against Depression In Mysterious Dark Paintings

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Art Historian: To modern audiences, this 5000-year-old stone sculpture may appear grotesque, even disturbing, but we must always bear in mind that ancient cultures had very different aesthetic sensibilities; to its contemporaries, this object was likely regarded as beautiful.

Stone-Carver From 3000 BC: I’m gonna make this thing creepy as hell.

Real talk.

May 22 2017


I actually would like to wear flowers and leaves in my hair every single day if that’s okay

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Match #383

Zuhair Murad Haute Couture Fall 2015 | Utopia 10 by Jongsook Kim, 2012, Swarovski crystals and mixed media on canvas

More matches here

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“I’m right here, guys.” (via britneydortiz)


Omg!!!!! 😂😂😩😍

May 21 2017

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Livros - Storybook gate sign…

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Tired eyes

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May 20 2017

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Gale at Sea, Alexander-Jean Noël / Going to Reykjavik, The Mountain Goats

Thank you for agreeing to take the Pre-Employment Assessment Test. Please answer all questions as truthfully as you can.


QUESTION 1: Your wife, the mother of your children, is drowning. You have a life preserver. However, a customer requires your assistance. What do you do?

QUESTION 2: A man has been caught stealing from the company and he is currently awaiting execution. You are the executioner. Do you pull the trigger?

QUESTION 3: Which sentence best describes yourself?

- I have clinical depression.

- I’m ready to be productive!

QUESTION 4: Which sentence best describes yourself?

- I try to do things to the best of ability.

- I am willing to bleed for you.

QUESTION 5: Are you afraid to die?

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Photos That look Like Renaissance Paintings

My aesthetic


Self care is putting your face on a very soft cat

May 19 2017

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“Rogue Moon”

Saffron Vadher photographed by Marie Zucker for On The Rocks Magazine

Stylist: Carmen Borgonovo
Hair: Naoki Komiya
Makeup: Valeria Ferreira

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Promachoteuthis Sulcus

This strange creature was caught by German Research Vessel Walther Herwig in the Southern Atlantic Ocean. It’s a species of promachoteuthid squid and only one specimen has been found to date. 

It also has crazy human looking teeth. How wonderful

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May 18 2017






concept: instead of hedwig, Harry goes into the pet store and this little snake in the back of the store talks to him, obviously gets his attention more than the other animals, and harry feels sorry for it so he takes it home. Then the snake helps Harry throughout his years at hogwarts as harry carries it wrapped around his hand all like “pssssst, haaarryyy, the dark lord isss coming sss” or just petty shit like “haaaarrryy, now is the time, assskkk out cho chaaannngg”

The snake getting really agitated in second year and Harry like ‘Aw, what’s wrong little friend?’

And snake’s like ‘Nah don’t worry it’s cool, it’s just that big fuck-off snake in the pipes that keeps making you think you’re hearing things—it’s like, ten thousand foot long, and I’m a corn snake, so you know. Bit intimidating.’

Third year he eats Scabbers and saves them all a lot of time

my hand slipped

“Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at - an’ I don’ like cats, they make me sneeze. I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead useful, carry yer mail an’ everythin’.”

Harry looked up at Hagrid’s broad smiling face. He didn’t want to screw this up but he had to ask.

“Hagrid? Can I… can I come with you?” Hagrid’s brow furrowed and Harry hurried on, hoping he hadn’t offended the giant. “Not that - I’m sure you’d pick out a great owl, I just… Never had a pet before. I’d like to choose.” His voice had shrank by the end of the sentence until he wasn’t sure Hagrid could hear him. To his surprise, Hagrid’s face split into an even bigger smile and he cuffed Harry on the back, nearly knocking him over.

“O’ course, Harry, what were I thinkin’? A pet’s a special thing. Knew you’d be one for the magical beasts like me. This way, then.”

The shop Harry followed Hagrid into smelled like… Well, Harry couldn’t begin to put a name to it. There seemed to be a million glittering eyes, a thousand claws, a billion feathers. There were toads and snakes, rabbits, cats, rats, lizards, hedgehogs, even what seemed to be an elephant the size of a tea kettle, but remembering what Hagrid had said, Harry focused on the owls.

There were dozens of them, of all species, some looking more haughty, others more friendly. He was studying a pretty white one, wondering if it would understand him when he talked to it, when a small, sleepy voice near him said quite distinctly, “Mouse.”

Confused, Harry glanced around. The shopkeeper was up front talking happily to Hagrid and there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the shop. Harry had just turned back to the owls when,

“Mouse. No…. Come back.” There was something odd about the voice and it took Harry a moment to recognise what it was. It sounded like when Dudley was having a bad dream. Harry looked around again. There was a small tank with a tarantula in it, rows of softly hooting owls, stacks of old Daily Prophet’s for use as cage liners, stacks of owl treats … and a tiny snake curled up in the bottom of a cage.

It appeared to be asleep. It was no bigger around than Harry’s finger and was patterened in light pink and white. As he watched, a tiny tongue slid out of its mouth and it muttered, “I smell you, mouse…. Come back.” Now that Harry was looking at it, it was obvious to him that the snake was talking in its sleep. He moved closer. The very tip of the snake’s tail was twitching as it dreamed.

His shadow fell on the cage and the snake woke up. “Drat,” it said, yawning hugely. Its tiny mouth stretched and wobbled as it yawned and Harry fought the urge to laugh. “You’re not a mouse.”

“No. Sorry.” It was all he could think to say. The snake uncoiled, rising slowly to look at him seriously.

“You’re going to Hogwarts.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” said Harry. “I’ve come to get an owl.”

“Take me with you.” The snake’s tiny eyes sparkled.

“Why?” Harry asked, surprised. Hagrid hadn’t said anything about snakes.

“No one else can speak to me,” the snake replied simply, winding up the bars to get closer to Harry. “No one understands me. We could be great friends.”

“No one?” It seemed a bit too eager to Harry but before the snake could say anything else, a voice behind Harry said, “Ah! You’ve met Siggi!”

“Siggi?” asked Harry. In the cage, the snake went, “Ugh,” quietly.

“Yes, isn’t she a darling? She’s a corn snake, an albino one, and she’s just the cutest thing. Of course, these days, we have the hardest time selling snakes, what with You-Know-Who and all that. I keep telling people, who’s going to think you’re a Death Eater with this little princess on your arm but no one listens to me.”

“Yes, she always talks like this,” Siggi said with a little snake sigh, as if reading Harry’s mind. She slithered away from the bars. “I told you.” The shopkeeper kept talking about the snake as though she wasn’t there and Harry realised that Siggi was telling the truth - he was the only one who could hear her.

“Could I…hold her?” Harry was surprised to find he was the one speaking.

“Why of course, dear.” The cage was opened and Harry found the tiny corn snake being placed on his arm. Siggi made a little snake noise of happiness.

“Warm!” She immediately began slithering up Harry’s arm to his collar, where the skin of his neck was exposed. “Warmwarmwarm.” She draped herself over the back of his neck, her tongue flicking at his ear. “You taste…nice. Like a nice person. Let’s go to Hogwarts. Is it warm there? Are there mice?”

Her weight was comforting and Harry found her happy chatter in his ear pleasant. He stroked her side with a finger and she made a lazy, happy noise. She was silky smooth and very friendly.

“Harry!” Hagrid sounded so shocked that Harry jumped. “What’re yeh messin’ with a snake fer? That’s dark magic, that is.”

“Oh, Hagrid,” scolded the shopkeeper, “I wouldn’t expect you of all people to hold onto that superstitious nonsense.” But Harry was already hastily scooping the snake off his neck and feeding her back into the cage.

“I wasn’t - I just…” But Hagrid and the shopwitch had started arguing and neither were paying attention to his feeble excuses. What <was> he doing? He’d come here to buy an owl.

He turned his attention back to the perches and the formidable birds gazing down on him. Suddenly, they didn’t seem so beautiful. They were kind of frightening, all huge beaks and talons. And aside from their hoots, they were silent. Siggi didn’t say anything else, but he could feel her reproachful eyes on the back of his head as he looked at the owls.

Mail, Hagrid had said. But how useful was that? He had no friends, no family to write to. One of the raptors spread its wings and beat the air with powerful wings, screeching loudly. That or a little friend to talk to, a friend who liked him even just for his body warmth. If Siggi was telling the truth, she might never get to talk to someone again. Even living under the stairs he’d been able to talk to Dudley sometimes, get a glimpse of the news. How could he leave Siggi alone in a cage?

He turned around. “I want the snake.” The expressions on the shopkeeper’s and Hagrid’s faces as they froze mid -argument were comical.Before anyone could say anything else, Harry opened the cage and scooped the waiting Siggi up to his chest, where she crawled happily into his coat.

“Thank you,” she said, from somewhere over his heart.

“We’ll get you a better name,” Harry whispered back, patting her gently. “We’ll be friends.”

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