thesodomysoliloquies:

“Lou Reed Smokes a Cigarette” by Ronn Sutton (1984)

thesodomysoliloquies:

“Lou Reed Smokes a Cigarette” by Ronn Sutton (1984)

ariverman:


Stunning photos by Herbert Ponting from the tragic Terra Nova expedition to the South Pole in 1910. Its impossible for me to fathom what one must go through in his final days, dealing with impending fate. Death is a isolating certainty for us all, but added to the disconnection from civilization, the psyche is laid bare to disintegration. Ponting’s work from the expedition represents, for me, the essence of exploration; disconnection,  blossoming curiosity, submission to nature and introspection. Those that perished may have not held such sentiments up until their last breathe. Given the dual role of the mind as creator and destroyer, as an all round dynamic, fragile, and corruptible medium, I guess I have a new found appreciation for keeping record. Tumblr obliges, before I corrode.THE SLEEPING BAG by Herbert Ponting

On the outside grows the furside. On the inside grows the skinside.So the furside is the outside and the skinside is the inside.As the skinside is the inside (and the furside is the outside)One ‘side’ likes the skinside inside and the furside on the outside.Others like the skinside outside and the furside on the insideAs the skinside is the hard side and the furside is the soft side.If you turn the skinside outside, thinking you will side with that ‘side’,Then the soft side furside’s inside, which some argue is the wrong side.If you turn the furside outside – as you say, it grows on that side,Then your outside’s next the skinside, which for comfort’s not the right side.For the skinside is the cold side and your outside’s not your warm sideAnd the two cold sides coming side-by-side are not the right sides one ‘side’ decides.If you decide to side with that ‘side’, turn the outside furside insideThen the hard side, cold side, skinside’s, beyond all question, inside outside. 

ariverman:

Grotto in an iceberg, Antartica. January 11, 1910.

imageStunning photos by Herbert Ponting from the tragic Terra Nova expedition to the South Pole in 1910. Its impossible for me to fathom what one must go through in his final days, dealing with impending fate. Death is a isolating certainty for us all, but added to the disconnection from civilization, the psyche is laid bare to disintegration. Ponting’s work from the expedition represents, for me, the essence of exploration; disconnection,  blossoming curiosity, submission to nature and introspection. Those that perished may have not held such sentiments up until their last breathe. Given the dual role of the mind as creator and destroyer, as an all round dynamic, fragile, and corruptible medium, I guess I have a new found appreciation for keeping record. Tumblr obliges, before I corrode.

THE SLEEPING BAG by Herbert Ponting

On the outside grows the furside. On the inside grows the skinside.
So the furside is the outside and the skinside is the inside.
As the skinside is the inside (and the furside is the outside)
One ‘side’ likes the skinside inside and the furside on the outside.
Others like the skinside outside and the furside on the inside
As the skinside is the hard side and the furside is the soft side.
If you turn the skinside outside, thinking you will side with that ‘side’,
Then the soft side furside’s inside, which some argue is the wrong side.
If you turn the furside outside – as you say, it grows on that side,
Then your outside’s next the skinside, which for comfort’s not the right side.
For the skinside is the cold side and your outside’s not your warm side
And the two cold sides coming side-by-side are not the right sides one ‘side’ decides.
If you decide to side with that ‘side’, turn the outside furside inside
Then the hard side, cold side, skinside’s, beyond all question, inside outside. 

abject-reptile:

Lawrence ‘I am just going outside’ Oates, taken by Herbert Ponting during the British Antarctic Expedition 1910-1913.
 ‘I am just going outside and may be some time.’ The others nod, pretending not to know. At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime. He leaves them reading and begins to climb, Goading his ghost into the howling snow; He is just going outside and may be some time. The tent recedes beneath its crust of rime And frostbite is replaced by vertigo: At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime. Need we consider it some sort of crime, This numb self-sacrifice of the weakest? No, He is just going outside and may be some time In fact, for ever. Solitary enzyme, Though the night yield no glimmer there will glow, At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime. - Derek Mahon

abject-reptile:

Lawrence ‘I am just going outside’ Oates, taken by Herbert Ponting during the British Antarctic Expedition 1910-1913.


‘I am just going outside and may be some time.’
The others nod, pretending not to know.
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
He leaves them reading and begins to climb,
Goading his ghost into the howling snow;
He is just going outside and may be some time.
The tent recedes beneath its crust of rime
And frostbite is replaced by vertigo:
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
Need we consider it some sort of crime,
This numb self-sacrifice of the weakest? No,
He is just going outside and may be some time
In fact, for ever. Solitary enzyme,
Though the night yield no glimmer there will glow,
At the heart of the ridiculous, the sublime.
- Derek Mahon
bratwave:

The Heart of the Great Alone

bratwave:

The Heart of the Great Alone

Clinic - The Return Of Evil Bill (2000) (by DominoRecords)

helelooo:

Peter Bruegel the Elder - The Seven Deadly Sins, 1557

lubriciosity:

Hunters in the Snow by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.  Another one of my favorite artists.

lubriciosity:

Hunters in the Snow by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.  Another one of my favorite artists.

nyirkosvaskorlat:

Ma egy kicsit kabbeafaszom a stílusom, bocsi :(

ismerem a lányt és pont ma mesélte nekem ezt a sztorit, jót röhögtünk

nyirkosvaskorlat:

Ma egy kicsit kabbeafaszom a stílusom, bocsi :(

ismerem a lányt és pont ma mesélte nekem ezt a sztorit, jót röhögtünk