Thursday

The Animal Parade
























'Richard'

Artist Nathalia Edenmont

Beautiful works that provoke real questions.

View the rest of the photos from this series here.


































'Lost'

She has a new exhibit at the Wetterling Gallery titled 'Still Born'.
View the rest of her wonderful photographs from this series here.




I'm hungry for rabbit stew...

Sunday

Liquid Sub-Sonic Rythms


I don't know too much about the genre, dub-step. All I know is that this new release, by Pinch, called Underwater Dancehall is fucking awesome. It features two discs: the first with vocals and the second, without. I found that the second disc is where the magic really happens. Here’s an excerpt of a review from popmatters.com, where they delve a little deeper.

The second disc strips away the vocals, leaving only the underlying beats. As such, it gives itself up more slowly, requiring a freeform, body-centered kind of listening that focuses on rhythm, sensation, and varying levels of intensity. And yet, disc two, played at high volumes, is in some ways a more enveloping experience. You feel the bass-tones. You twitch in response to the shuffle of various kinds of percussion. You lose yourself in the undulating long tones of synthesizer. You realize in disc two that the title is really apt. You are underwater, moving through cool currents of sound, and you are dancing. And that alone may be worth the price of admission.

Saturday

Dear sir or madam (whatever the hell you are),

Please stay out of my rose bushes. I work very hard to take care of these roses and I don’t very well appreciate you running around naked in my garden. I understand you have a condition but that gives you no right to behave like a wild native. And another thing, could you please take a shower every once in a while? You smell like rat piss and the neighbors are starting to get suspicious. You know how Miss Weaselface is, always sticking her big honker in other people’s business. You know, she is really becoming quite unbearable, with her loud flower prints and her flamboyant flatulence.

So please, keep away from my roses or I’ll sock you in your double chin. Thanks!

Love,

Gladys Mcnattice