Archivalism

i speak of conflict, compromise, philosophy, verbose speakers, networks, time, fast stability, the brain, {improv} jazz, love, and the promise

Feb 28
“I’m not what I used to be, I’m not what
I’m not what I used to be, and I
I don’t know myself from anybody else
I’m not what I used to be, I’m not what
I’m not what I used to be, and I
You don’t know what you have done
My frame is here but the mind is gone, gone away” Esthero, Superheroes 
Posted at 6:49pm

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Feb 22
mills: A second in the series of photos of sunsets through my office windows, rows of reflected fluorescent lights extending into the clouds. The first is here, and was to my knowledge the most noted thing I’ve ever posted.

mills:

A second in the series of photos of sunsets through my office windows, rows of reflected fluorescent lights extending into the clouds. The first is here, and was to my knowledge the most noted thing I’ve ever posted.
Posted at 8:39pm

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Feb 8
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Oh my fucking god.

stuffparty:

bullshit:

oomb:

This is a recording of Barack Obama saying, “You ain’t my bitch, nigga! Buy your own damn fries!”

Apparently there are some choice phrases quoted in Dreams From My Father. Obama did the audiobook, and so there are now clips of him saying these things, including, also:

“Sure you can have my number, baby!”

“There are white folks, and then there are ignorant motherfuckers like you.”

“You know that guy ain’t shit. Sorry-ass motherfucker ain’t got nothing on me.”

And, perhaps best of all, “So what happens when we go out to a party with some sistahs, huh? What happens? I tell you what happens: Blam! They on us like there’s no tomorrow. High school chicks, university chicks, it don’t matter!”

From the Boston Phoenix, with many thanks to ephemeron
Posted at 7:33pm

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Jan 26
I wish I were more daring.

I wish I were more daring.
Posted at 10:58pm

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Jan 4
(via zoee)

(via zoee)
Posted at 10:45pm

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Binge & Purge

Feels like springtime again, ladies and gents

Posted at 10:43pm

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Dec 8
It’s more fitting that the world isn’t so anonymous mills: Snow, from Elle in the Woods and S. Stratodrive at the Elder Street Train Platform.

It’s more fitting that the world isn’t so anonymous

mills:

Snow, from Elle in the Woods and S. Stratodrive at the Elder Street Train Platform.
Posted at 2:36pm

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Oct 13
mills: Rory O’Rear found another wonderful piece by Cursive Buildings, and I can’t resist posting it: “Modern Lovers.” Click here for a larger view, and click here for his Flickr, since I have to stop putting one of these up every other day.

mills:

Rory O’Rear found another wonderful piece by Cursive Buildings, and I can’t resist posting it: “Modern Lovers.”

Click here for a larger view, and click here for his Flickr, since I have to stop putting one of these up every other day.
Posted at 6:53pm

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Sep 6

90

Today is my grandfather’s 90th birthday. The majority of my extended family made the pilgrimage to DC to pay their respects to the clan patriarch… there’s a filial sort of quality to this reunion. There’s a palatable sense of obligation and deep respect for someone so old, wise, experienced. Family from Connecticut to South Carolina made the trek to DC, to simply sing, slice some cake, and reminisce.

I am in NYC. I decided not to make the four hour trip to see my grandfather. I suppose I don’t see the gravity of the situation (yet)… I just saw him last wednesday, and making such a trip seemed kind of arbitrary considering the circumstances. This feeling, it’s difficult to explain… our culture puts emphasis on our base-10 numeric system, so things like 10, 50, and 100 are big anniversaries. With this considered, 90 would be a decently important year for a human, also because my grandfather might not make it another year.

I feel like a lazy traitor, a terrible grandson, a generally bad human being. I’ve failed to pay due respect to this great man, my blood relative, someone who has cared for me since I was very little.

I called home and wished him well etc, but I could hear the sadness in his voice “I understand why you wouldn’t be able to make it, thanks for the call.”

A phone can’t send a hug.

Posted at 2:43pm

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Aug 20

Destruction, Reincarnation

Today I balance between an end and a beginning, a movement of life, miles and minutes from drastic change. Today I must pack all my belongings quickly, efficiently. I must salvage everything of my life in DC. Any item I cannot or do not pack will be archived in the attic for generations.

I must pick up my life and move it to another location. This process is synthetic and a byproduct of modernity. It’s sort of disturbing to think a person can be in one place on a given day, and utterly disappear the next.

I will be driving to New York City tomorrow morning, and I don’t think I’ll ever turn back. I might not ever look back. Perhaps I’ll return to the District one day, but my heart will always remain in the skyscrapers of Manhattan, the blocks of Brooklyn, in the city’s maw, permeating.

Tomorrow there will be a sorrowful destruction. A boy will leave the nest. Goodbyes always hurt in a soft way. Endings always tear me up. The family that lovingly raised me will say farewell and goodluck. As I exit the District, I will not be able to forget that.

But as we approach Manhattan, and I behold its magnificient spires, its inspiring vastness, I will be unable to look away. A place where 10 million people have 10 million dreams, how profound!

And I will add my small lot to it.

Goodbye, in the sickly sweet sort of way.

Posted at 12:56pm

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