HELL&

November 26, 2012 at 4:09pm
2 notes

Rush Midnight: Crush

November 18, 2012 at 7:16pm
3 notes

Billy Eichner: Man on the Street

November 13, 2012 at 3:21pm
2 notes

Jacques Pepin: Perfect Omelette

November 5, 2012 at 8:14am
59 notes
Reblogged from amandaonwriting
myimaginarybrooklyn:

amandaonwriting:
H.G. Wells writes a letter to James Joyce
From Letters of Note 
Lou Pidou, Saint Mathieu, Grasse, A.M.November 23, 1928My dear Joyce: I’ve been studying you and thinking over you a lot. The outcome is that I don’t think I can do anything for the propaganda of your work. I have enormous respect for your genius dating from your earliest books and I feel now a great personal liking for you but you and I are set upon absolutely different courses. Your training has been Catholic, Irish, insurrectionary; mine, such as it was, was scientific, constructive and, I suppose, English. The frame of my mind is a world wherein a big unifying and concentrating process is possible (increase of power and range by economy and concentration of effort), a progress not inevitable but interesting and possible. That game attracted and holds me. For it, I want a language and statement as simple and clear as possible. You began Catholic, that is to say you began with a system of values in stark opposition to reality. Your mental existence is obsessed by a monstrous system of contradictions. You may believe in chastity, purity and the personal God and that is why you are always breaking out into cries of cunt, shit and hell. As I don’t believe in these things except as quite personal values my mind has never been shocked to outcries by the existence of water closets and menstrual bandages — and undeserved misfortunes. And while you were brought up under the delusion of political suppression I was brought up under the delusion of political responsibility. It seems a fine thing for you to defy and break up. To me not in the least.Now with regard to this literary experiment of yours. It’s a considerable thing because you are a very considerable man and you have in your crowded composition a mighty genius for expression which has escaped discipline. But I don’t think it gets anywhere. You have turned your back on common men — on their elementary needs and their restricted time and intelligence, and you have elaborated. What is the result? Vast riddles. Your last two works have been more amusing and exciting to write than they will ever be to read. Take me as a typical common reader. Do I get much pleasure from this work? No. Do I feel I am getting something new and illuminating as I do when I read Anrep’s dreadful translation of Pavlov’s badly written book on Conditioned Reflexes? No. So I ask: Who the hell is this Joyce who demands so many waking hours of the few thousand I have still to live for a proper appreciation of his quirks and fancies and flashes of rendering? All this from my point of view. Perhaps you are right and I am all wrong. Your work is an extraordinary experiment and I would go out of my way to save it from destructive or restrictive interruption. It has its believers and its following. Let them rejoice in it. To me it is a dead end. My warmest wishes to you Joyce. I can’t follow your banner any more than you can follow mine. But the world is wide and there is room for both of us to be wrong.Yours, H.G. Wells

H.G. Wells writes to James Joyce

myimaginarybrooklyn:

amandaonwriting:

H.G. Wells writes a letter to James Joyce

From Letters of Note 

Lou Pidou, 
Saint Mathieu, 
Grasse, A.M.

November 23, 1928

My dear Joyce: 

I’ve been studying you and thinking over you a lot. The outcome is that I don’t think I can do anything for the propaganda of your work. I have enormous respect for your genius dating from your earliest books and I feel now a great personal liking for you but you and I are set upon absolutely different courses. Your training has been Catholic, Irish, insurrectionary; mine, such as it was, was scientific, constructive and, I suppose, English. The frame of my mind is a world wherein a big unifying and concentrating process is possible (increase of power and range by economy and concentration of effort), a progress not inevitable but interesting and possible. That game attracted and holds me. For it, I want a language and statement as simple and clear as possible. You began Catholic, that is to say you began with a system of values in stark opposition to reality. Your mental existence is obsessed by a monstrous system of contradictions. You may believe in chastity, purity and the personal God and that is why you are always breaking out into cries of cunt, shit and hell. As I don’t believe in these things except as quite personal values my mind has never been shocked to outcries by the existence of water closets and menstrual bandages — and undeserved misfortunes. And while you were brought up under the delusion of political suppression I was brought up under the delusion of political responsibility. It seems a fine thing for you to defy and break up. To me not in the least.

Now with regard to this literary experiment of yours. It’s a considerable thing because you are a very considerable man and you have in your crowded composition a mighty genius for expression which has escaped discipline. But I don’t think it gets anywhere. You have turned your back on common men — on their elementary needs and their restricted time and intelligence, and you have elaborated. What is the result? Vast riddles. Your last two works have been more amusing and exciting to write than they will ever be to read. Take me as a typical common reader. Do I get much pleasure from this work? No. Do I feel I am getting something new and illuminating as I do when I read Anrep’s dreadful translation of Pavlov’s badly written book on Conditioned Reflexes? No. So I ask: Who the hell is this Joyce who demands so many waking hours of the few thousand I have still to live for a proper appreciation of his quirks and fancies and flashes of rendering? 

All this from my point of view. Perhaps you are right and I am all wrong. Your work is an extraordinary experiment and I would go out of my way to save it from destructive or restrictive interruption. It has its believers and its following. Let them rejoice in it. To me it is a dead end. 

My warmest wishes to you Joyce. I can’t follow your banner any more than you can follow mine. But the world is wide and there is room for both of us to be wrong.

Yours, 
H.G. Wells

H.G. Wells writes to James Joyce

October 30, 2012 at 8:35pm
0 notes

Maison de Verre, Paris →

October 20, 2012 at 8:31pm
12 notes

Charlie Brooker: Susan Boyle

October 19, 2012 at 9:07pm
0 notes

The Shining: Kubrick’s Gold Story

9:03pm
1 note

De La Soul: 3 Feet High and Rising Press Kit

October 15, 2012 at 5:20pm
0 notes

Kobe Beef: What a Life

October 13, 2012 at 8:33pm
0 notes

Charles Mingus: Triumph of the Underdog

October 12, 2012 at 4:44pm
1,607 notes
Reblogged from brockdavis
brockdavis:

Peeing Honey Bear

Bear whiz

brockdavis:

Peeing Honey Bear

Bear whiz

4:42pm
6 notes

Nick Cave & Shane MacGowan: What A Wonderful World

October 10, 2012 at 4:30pm
0 notes

Al Franken: God Spoke

October 6, 2012 at 7:48pm
0 notes

Roger Ballen: Shadow Land →

October 2, 2012 at 9:57pm
0 notes

Public Enemy: Brothers Gonna Work It Out