Ktema Terpnon

Put it here. Put it right here.

THE BEDROOM(1.) The Window Added by the Toledos and designed by Philip Cozzi.


(2.) The CollageMade by Ruben from Isabel’s hair cuttings.


(3.) The StreetlightsA gift from a friend, they came from the Watergate Hotel in Washington.



(4.) The ScreensOriginally designed by Ruben for the Toledos’ friend Anneliese Estrada, and retrieved when she moved.
My current neighbors; tour courtesy of Paul. 

THE BEDROOM
(1.) The Window
Added by the Toledos and designed by Philip Cozzi.

(2.) The Collage
Made by Ruben from Isabel’s hair cuttings.

(3.) The Streetlights
A gift from a friend, they came from the Watergate Hotel in Washington.

(4.) The Screens
Originally designed by Ruben for the Toledos’ friend Anneliese Estrada, and retrieved when she moved.

My current neighbors; tour courtesy of Paul. 

Honestly, I think if even if we had all the money in the world, I’d still do a job that’s not music. For some reason, when we were in the barn and I had to go back to my temp job, those strict parameters made going to the barn feel so much different. There was a contrast. I think my personality is such that I like a structure to deviate from, because a blank canvas is really intimidating. A lot of my songwriting comes from that. If I didn’t have a nine-to-five, I don’t know what I would have been angry about! I think creativity comes from a little bit of discomfort.

— The Rumpus Interview With Therese Workman and Tyler Wood of Oh My Goodness (via therumpus)

(via therumpus)

thepieshops:

One of my favorite photos ever.
grossnational:

Wham-O™ creators Arthur “Spud” Melin and Richard Knerr


Every damned day with this client.

thepieshops:

One of my favorite photos ever.

grossnational:

Wham-O™ creators Arthur “Spud” Melin and Richard Knerr


Every damned day with this client.

adjst:

Shake.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was ecstatic. After the twenty-week ultrasound, a doctor came in and said our baby had a kidney disease and wouldn’t be able to breathe. When the diagnosis was confirmed, my husband and I looked at each other and knew immediately abortion was the only thing to do. Why give birth to a baby who will die? In Wisconsin, you need to sign a form that says you’re aware that the fetus has a heartbeat, fingers, and toes. After I signed, my husband took the pen. They said, “No, only the patient needs to sign,” but he said, “I want to.” The public university where we teach offers insurance affiliated with a Catholic hospital. We had to submit our case before an ethics committee of priests who would decide if insurance would pay. Otherwise, the procedure would cost us $25,000. The priests decided I had to deliver the baby. I was so upset I couldn’t talk. Later it turned out the state would cover it. They induced labor and offered me a Valium. It doesn’t make sense, but I didn’t want drugs. For weeks, I’d been holding my breath when trucks drove by, for my baby. The next night, my son was born into one of those hats that catch urine. It’s not how your baby is supposed to be born. My husband sang him “Thunder Road” and told him that Achilles was the greatest hero ever to live, which is ridiculous. We held him until he got cold. We named him Isaac. We didn’t tell anyone what happened, even my parents. We just said we lost the baby.

— 

Liz, 40, at the very end of this

The flip side to the capacity to have a child, for me, is the capacity to be lonely in a way I couldn’t have imagined until I had a miscarriage in college. Now I’m back in this business, on purpose and with a lot of thought. Even with the people and life I have (through luck, work and again lots of thought), that its possible to hit that empty point again pits me. Knowing that there were legal barriers or people I loved who might stop loving me if something happened, and still being able to function day to day, seems impossible. I have no idea how anyone has a child in a place where abortion is not accessible and openly discussed.

v-magazine:

#TBT Chloë Sevigny at our #VHALLOWEEN party as Joan of Arc in 2007

Already plotting next year

v-magazine:

#TBT Chloë Sevigny at our #VHALLOWEEN party as Joan of Arc in 2007


Already plotting next year

psaaok:

"Will you do me a favor?"
Famous Funnies, Issue #75, October 1940.Source

psaaok:

"Will you do me a favor?"

Famous Funnies, Issue #75, October 1940.
Source

(via ffactory)

Hotel living this week; too sleepy for murder

Hotel living this week; too sleepy for murder

(Source: hiboulafacette, via ffactory)

brightwalldarkroom:

Excerpt from Issue #5: Bebe Ballroom on Rosemary’s Baby (1968):
"Rosemary’s exposure to the dark plot unraveling around her comes not from the black alleyways of the occult but from simple parlor manners. The darkness is let into her life by a desire to be accommodating and sweet, to be perceived as polite. She would never risk making or taking offense, and it is only behind closed doors that she mocks her neighbors, and quiets her husband when he is laughing too loudly at their expense. The terror of the plot is rooted in modern times, in a cosmopolitan apartment building. The villains blend-in seamlessly with little effort and little suspicion from others, rendered practically harmless by their elderly stature and setting.
The new horror of the age lay not in the obvious gruesome monster or the known dangers of the past, but rather in the smallness of everyday modern life, hidden just barely out of sight in suburban homes and apartment houses, in linen closets covered with heavy furniture. It’s not about wondering what’s happening deep in the woods in the middle of the night, but instead obsessing about what’s happening in the building across the street, how deep the blackness of a soul can be, and what it is capable of doing for fame or money or some bizarre fulfillment of itself that we struggle to understand. It’s a type of fear that acts as a precursor to some of the strangest truths of today, all those endless newscasts filled with bewildered neighbors, chanting in unison: “This is a nice, quiet street” or “Never in a million years would I have suspected them…”
—-
​​To read the rest of this essay, sign up for a 7 day free trial of Bright Wall/Dark Room magazine today.  

brightwalldarkroom:

Excerpt from Issue #5: Bebe Ballroom on Rosemary’s Baby (1968):

"Rosemary’s exposure to the dark plot unraveling around her comes not from the black alleyways of the occult but from simple parlor manners. The darkness is let into her life by a desire to be accommodating and sweet, to be perceived as polite. She would never risk making or taking offense, and it is only behind closed doors that she mocks her neighbors, and quiets her husband when he is laughing too loudly at their expense. The terror of the plot is rooted in modern times, in a cosmopolitan apartment building. The villains blend-in seamlessly with little effort and little suspicion from others, rendered practically harmless by their elderly stature and setting.

The new horror of the age lay not in the obvious gruesome monster or the known dangers of the past, but rather in the smallness of everyday modern life, hidden just barely out of sight in suburban homes and apartment houses, in linen closets covered with heavy furniture. It’s not about wondering what’s happening deep in the woods in the middle of the night, but instead obsessing about what’s happening in the building across the street, how deep the blackness of a soul can be, and what it is capable of doing for fame or money or some bizarre fulfillment of itself that we struggle to understand. It’s a type of fear that acts as a precursor to some of the strangest truths of today, all those endless newscasts filled with bewildered neighbors, chanting in unison: “This is a nice, quiet street” or “Never in a million years would I have suspected them…”

—-

​​To read the rest of this essay, sign up for a 7 day free trial of Bright Wall/Dark Room magazine today.  

What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.

— Sylvia Plath (via s-ciamachy)

(Source: monsandroses, via tarts)