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"What in fact is racism? It is primarily a way of introducing a break into the domain of life that is under power’s control: the break between what must live and what must die."
- Foucault, Society Must Be Defended (via thetumblinginsurrection) -
There's a fear that reality itself is not safe, that there are fakers moving into your own skin, somehow.
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High Resolutionalso Stagecoach has John Carradine who looks like a bangin pervert. (via mudwerks)
(Source: movieactors.com)
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There is almost always a long tail of possibility, however thin. What’s wrong with looking for it? Nothing, it seems to me, unless it means we have failed to prepare for the outcome that’s vastly more probable. The trouble is that we’ve built our medical system and culture around the long tail. We’ve created a multitrillion-dollar edifice for dispensing the medical equivalent of lottery tickets—and have only the rudiments of a system to prepare patients for the near-certainty that those tickets will not win. Hope is not a plan, but hope is our plan.
Gawande, getting better.
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High Resolution(Source: circlesofcircles)
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There wasn't an iteration of myself that would recognize this entitled, richer, chubbier dude in a skinny tie or understand why he was screaming into his phone with such little shame or self-awareness.
sort of perfect.
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High Resolutionlike this.
(Source: frauisabella)
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oh stop.
(Source: mariszapata)
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katy perry, you big dummy.
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High Resolutiondo no wrong.
(Source: definegalaxxy)
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ain’t no thang
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"My hand moved slowly over the words, feeling for breaks between the inlay and marble, not to fault the craftsmen, of course, but only to find the human labor, the individual, in the wholness and beauty of the tomb.
It wasn’t until we were walking back through the garden that I asked our driver what the words represented. They were the ninety-nine names of God."- Delillo, The Names -
"Why is the language of destruction so beautful?” Owen said.
I didn’t know what he meant. Did he mean ordinary hardware - stun grenades, parabellum ammo? Or what a terrorist might carry, some soft-eyed boy from Adana, slung over his shoulder, Kalashnikov, sweet whisper in the dark, with a flash suppressor and folding stock. He say quietly, Owen did, working out an answer. The way was open to interpretation, broader landscapes. He would have a patient theory to submit on the adductive force of such sounds, how they stir the chemistry of the early brain. Or did he mean the language of the mathematics of war, nuclear game theory, that bone country of tech data and little clicking words."- Don Delillo, The Names (115) -
Bad bitch on all fours.
(via thisisappallling)
decent
you should feel bad.
