Convergence for your banshee leach (1/25/10)
by Ryland Walker Knight
— my wipe
Sunday, January 24, 2010
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Open your eyes, your ears, your nostrils: the weight is over.
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2010
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January
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- Viewing Log #31: Foam forts make islands, traps [1...
- Our City Our Words: Calling all corners
- Vinyl is heavy and Vitti is forever #26
- Lost Light Lewton: Cat People + The Seventh Victim
- Convergence for your banshee leach (1/25/10)
- Viewing Log #30: Color cannot clean a canting [1/1...
- Nimble epistle, verdurous carrion
- Convergence for your mind drips (1/19/10)
- Vinyl is heavy and Vitti is forever #25
- Bright Star: Fold a fabric cheek by jowl
- Viewing Log #29: Spots like Fort Knox [1/11/10 - 1...
- Represent Repertory #3: Tiers on tires, on tableaux
- Better not pout about a horizon
- Vinyl is heavy and Vitti is forever #24
- Images of ours
- Viewing Log #28: Shape the way you play [1/4/10 - ...
- Convergence for your cloudbusting (1/8/10)
- Light Lines
- Vinyl is heavy and Vitti is forever #23
- Convergence for slangin rocks (1/4/10)
- Viewing Log #27: Here we go again [12/28/09 - 1/3/10]
- Top teats. Whoops, tweets.
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January
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We thank you for your curiosity!
We Curate, We Create
- A Conjunction of Quotations
- Alain à la recherche
- BANG BANG
- Cannes 2011
- Convergences
- DREYER at BAM
- Found Facts
- Last Lost
- Lynch Mob
- Our City Our Words
- Pedro Costa at PFA
- Represent Repertory
- RWK's viewing log [07.09 'til 10.11]
- SFIFF52
- SFIFF53
- SFIFF54
- Telluride 2008
- Two thousand weight?
- Vinyl is heavy and Vitti is forever
- VINYL IS PODCAST
- We Live OK
We Live
I'm not telling you to make the world better, because I don't think that progress is necessarily part of the package. I'm just telling you to live in it. Not just to endure it, not just to suffer it, not just to pass through it, but to live in it. To look at it. To try to get the picture. To live recklessly. To take chances. To make your own work and take pride in it. To seize the moment. And if you ask me why you should bother to do that, I could tell you that the grave's a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace. Nor do they sing there, or write, or argue, or see the tidal bore on the Amazon, or touch their children. And that's what there is to do and get it while you can and good luck at it.
— Joan Didion
— Joan Didion
TIP JAR
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