I just found an eyegasm goldmine.

Click for a better quality image.

Botafogo Bay and Rio de Janeiro at night, September 1920.

Taken by Carlos Bippus, National Geographic

To see even more incredible photos like this, click here for a curated selection of National Geographic's amazing unpublished archive of photos.

I'm potentially going to be up all night looking at these again and again, much to the boyfriend's chagrin.

"My living legend is probably someone like Lydia Lunch, same age as me, but who ran away to NYC years prior (1974/5) and walked directly up to Wayne County and introduced herself. Also certainly John Lydon for reasons completely apparent by watching his confrontations with ding dong culture and media twerps."

- Thurston Moore

Thurston Moore wins the Living Legend Award

This is my life.

"Literary influence is like genetics, too. Rushdie got some of his fireworks from Günter Grass and Gabriel García Márquez. García Márquez got things from Kafka and Faulkner. So, with Middlesex, you could say I inherited traits from all these ancestors, not to mention good old Homer. But some of my stuff bears no relation to these writers. Different gene pool entirely.

Influence isn’t just a matter of copying someone or learning his or her tricks. You get influenced by writers whose work gives you hints about your own abilities and inclinations. Being influenced is largely a process of self-discovery. What you have to do is put all your influences into the blender and arrive at your own style and vision."

- Jeffrey Eugenides

Michelle Hinebrook

I should be doing work, but...

These are too cool.

Michelle Hinebrook's current work on Juxtapoz.com

Oh comely, I will be with you when you lose your breath,

Chasing the only meaningful memory you thought you had left.

With some pretty, bright and bubbly terrible scene

That was doing her thing on your chest.

But oh comely,

It isn't as pretty as you'd like to guess

In your memory, you're drunk on your awe to me

It doesn't mean anything at all.

Oh comely,

All of your friends are all letting you blow,

Bristling and ugly, bursting with fruits falling out from the holes

Of some pretty, bright, and bubbly friend 

You could need to say comforting things in your ear

But oh comely, 

There isn't such one friend that you could find here.

Standing next to me,

He's only my enemy 

I'll crush him with everything I own.

Say what you want to say

Hang for your hollow ways

Moving your mouth to pull out

All your miracles aimed for me.

Your father made foetuses with flesh licking ladies, 

While you and your mother were asleep in the trailer park.

Thunderous sparks from the dark of the stadiums,

The music and medicine you needed for comforting.

So make all your fat fleshy fingers to moving,

And pluck all your silly strings, bend all your notes for me.

Soft silly music is meaningful magical,

The movements were beautiful, all in your ovaries.

All of them milking with green fleshy flowers,

While powerful pistons were sugary sweet machines.

Smelling of semen all under the garden

Was all you were needing when you still believed in me.

Say what your want to say.

Hang for your hollow ways.

Moving your mouth to pull out

All your miracles aimed for me.

I know they buried her body with others,

Her sister and mother and five-hundred families.

And will she remember me fifty years later?

I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.

Know all your enemies.

We know who our enemies are.

Goldaline, my dear,

We will fold and freeze together

Far away from here.

There is sun and spring and green forever.

But now we move to feel for ourselves inside some stranger's stomach.

Place your body here,

Let your skin begin to blend itself with mine.

Chris Knox and Stefan Neville on stage together followed by Neutral Milk Hotel.

Two of the greatest gigs of my life.

My week in articles.

Music:

Lou Reed's Final Interview

Lianne La Havas Performs Beautiful Cover of Little Dragons' song "Twice"

Okkervil River to Perform Two NZ Shows

Nature:

Nasa's Image Gallery

Wired Science's Absurd Creature of the Week Page

Art:

The Art of Tony Bennett (yes, THE Tony Bennett).

Insa's Animated Gifs

13 Pieces of Dark Satire

Culture:

Victorian Headless Photos

Top Five Karl Pilkington Lookalikes

Vintage Photos of Drag Kings

Silo Cinema Announces 2013 Schedule

Are You Happy & in Love? Here's Why That Makes You Kind of Sad.

Halloween Used to be Creepier

Now for the more serious stuff...

Discussion with bell hooks & Melissa Harris-Perry

Don't Ask Hillary Clinton About Abortion if You Can't Handle Her Answer.

A Tough Week to be a Woman: An Excellent and Inspiring Article by Michelle A'Court.

An Open Letter to John Tamihere and Willie Jackson Regarding Their Terrible On-Air Comments

Kudos to you, internet. Kudos.

"I'm a thief and a shitkicker, and, uh, I'd like to be famous."

- Dawn Davenport, Female Trouble 

(directed by John Waters)

I have a tattoo craving

Dots to Lines

Peter Aurisch

Alice Carrier

David Hale

Michael Wolf is my new favourite photographer.

Michael Wolf Photography

Breath by The Tall Dwarfs

Breath

(on Weeville album)

E       G       E        G     E      G     E      G      E      G     E      G
yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaah you're in my heaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad fill my heaaaaaaaaaaaaaad 
 G      B5    G     A                   E       B5        G       A       E          B5        G      A
fill my heaaaaaaaaaaaaad i'm alive i'm aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive i'm alive i'm aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive i'm alive 
     E               G              A              E    G    E    G    E    G
i'm alive yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

when you're near i don't feel the same i don't feel the same 
i don't feel the same i'm alive i'm alive i'm alive i'm alive i'm alive 
i'm alive yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

and i love you i love you i love you
i'm alive i'm aliiiiiiiiiiive 
i'm alive i'm aliiiiiiiiiiive
i'm alive i'm alive yeah yeah yeah
yeah yeah yeah
yeah yeah yeah

Define chords:

From Room to Breathe

(don't trust anyone)

Are you just a caster of worthless spells

"Find what you love,

and let it kill you."

- Charles Bukowski

I'm trying to find my way home.

I'm sorry, and I miss you.

I'm in hell.

No island is a man

lonely on all four sides

with the door left unknocked

and the bell left unrung,

waiting to be finished

with the wait so heavy

like the non-beat of a

bass drum, silent in its

unrest. The sound

rings steady upon

the unsoliciting shores.

— Stephen Leeds, “Unsound,” from issue 132, Fall 1994 of The Paris Review.

"Too weird to live, and too rare to die."

- Hunter S. Thompson, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas