lost in sprawl city

but i could see the hourglass was starting to bend



i'm jeffrey. bostonian.
The Green Light.

The Green Light.

Compton.

Compton.

(Source: carllindstrom)

"Maybe we love our dolls because we can’t love ourselves,” a friend of mine—an artist who made drawings of dolls missing legs or arms or eyes, that all looked, somehow, eerily like her—once suggested. Perhaps this is the essential truth behind why we make effigies. And maybe this is why we tend to believe that children should have dolls that look like them, or at least that look like what they might eventually become. In 1959, Mattel introduced a doll that was, unlike most other dolls marketed for children, not a baby doll. The doll had breasts and wore makeup and was modeled after a doll sold in Germany as a gag gift for grown men. The man who designed the American version of the doll, a man who had formerly designed Sparrow and Hawk missiles for the Pentagon and was briefly married to Zsa Zsa Gabor, was charged with making the new Barbie doll look less like a “German street walker,” which he attempted in part by filing off her nipples.
In the past few decades, quite a few people have suggested—citing most often the offense of impossible proportions—that Barbie dolls teach young girls to hate themselves. But the opposite may be true. British researchers recently found that girls between the ages of seven and eleven harbor surprisingly strong feelings of dislike for their Barbie dolls, with no other toy or brand name inspiring such a negative response from the children. The dolls “provoked rejection, hatred, and violence,” and many girls preferred Barbie torture— by cutting, burning, decapitating, or microwaving—over other ways of playing with the doll. Reasons that the girls hated their Barbies included, somewhat poetically, the fact that they were “plastic.” The researchers also noted that the girls never spoke of one single, special Barbie, but tended to talk about having a box full of anonymous Barbies. “On a deeper level Barbie has become inanimate,” one of the researchers remarked. “She has lost any individual warmth that she might have possessed if she were perceived as a singular person. This may go some way towards explaining the violence and torture."

— “Relations” by Eula Biss

(Source: tenderbean)

The Watts Prophets – Response To A Bourgeois Nigger (17 plays)

Response to a Bourgeois Nigger by the Watts Prophets, The Black Voices on the Street in Watts (1969)

(Source: pre-postmortem)

Mermaid on Spring.

Mermaid on Spring.

Public vs. private. Asked to step away from this fountain/not sit at it. Owned by Macguire Properties. That’s the Library/US Bank tower behind it.

Postscript: Not allowed to lay down on a nearby bench, so security asked came back out just to tell me to sit up. Guess I oughtta peace.

Public vs. private. Asked to step away from this fountain/not sit at it. Owned by Macguire Properties. That’s the Library/US Bank tower behind it.

Postscript: Not allowed to lay down on a nearby bench, so security asked came back out just to tell me to sit up. Guess I oughtta peace.

Consider carefully:

When did it become four am?

If my love gets lost in a black hole I’ll only have myself and gravity to blame

listen

i don’t believe in heaven

but i do believe in heavenly bodies

like ours, colliding and swirling into one

another, spirited tangle or tango

aren’t the arms of the Mice flung out

in dance, coiling around each others’ necks

until death do us come together

two salacious celestials at the other end

of an intergalactic voyeur.

making love and making light don’t seem so

different anymore, do they?

Every kiss on the neck a star

bursting into existence our universe

is like some backwoods bazaar

and we’re standing in the corner

under dim lamplight

dancing to a composition death

emitting jets of heat from the centers of ourselves

like listen

i don’t believe in church

but i do believe in the mass

of a black hole

and the silence at the end of a song

and the darkness at the end of  light

and the destruction at the end of our creation

A rose petal I really liked that I picked from a garden called Heaven (seriously). It gossiped with me about Jackson Pollock.

A rose petal I really liked that I picked from a garden called Heaven (seriously). It gossiped with me about Jackson Pollock.

I don’t mean to disappoint. I’m just not sorry when I do.

Divinity on South Broadway

Divinity on South Broadway

(Source: baroqueart)

Dolls (3)

plastic succubae, they haunted my childhood sleep-those

throbless creatures with odd necks that snapped or crumbled

when thrown from the bed or bashed with a hammer

and i would wake into the welcoming dark, relieved

for those rosy-cheeked specters with fingers that would not part

had vanished and i could will myself to better dreams, forget

those blank voids that caused me cringings-for although

i could not appreciate death, i understood not living

Wanda Coleman

Sick video. Give Detroit this.

Newtonian graffiti.

Newtonian graffiti.