i don't do bad sauce passes
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Cosmic Funnies
NASA
Cosimo Galluzzi

oozey mess

ellievsbear
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

Kaledo Art
sheepfilms
styofa doing anything
taylor price
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

JBB: An Artblog!
KIROKAZE
art blog(derogatory)
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@bradsavedme
why do mosquitoes have to leave itchy bites. cant they just drink blood w/o ruining my day, like i have a lot of blood, u can have some, this is just excessive
Okay… allow me to first catch my breath. THIS.IS.MINDBLOWING. Say what you may about the metaphorical finger she’s pointing at various butthurt parties here, as well as the almost-mawkish opulence and Lady Gaga-esque choreography, but the underlying objective of my opinions is predicated primarily on a analytical standpoint. So here goes. I really wish I could’ve analysed this music video for my Year 11 English, because every frame is a treasure trove of both overt and subliminal symbolism and references. Overall, it is a scintillating composition of art; all of the multifaceted elements just seem to flow and meld together so seamlessly and evocatively. Kudos to the director for his profoundly incredible videography prowess (those fades and zooms got my tongue-wagging). Every major and minute detail and synchronisation seems so meticulously and ingeniously thought-out, from the fleeting focus on the cross in the graveyard, to her reputation ‘rising from the dead’, to the snake-like eyes, to the sardonic reference to the Grammys, to the devil-red dress, to the supercilious air surrounding her sipping on tea served by ‘faceless’ and 'invisible’ online trolls, to the abounding references to snakes and felines, to the 'I ❤️ TS’-emblazoned tops (ominously redolent of the Hiddleswift drama that was cooked up), to the ’T’ that quite perturbingly mimics the form of a luminous crucifix, to the old Taylors gnashing their teeth and writhing in anguish while clinging to the new reputation's feet, and that infamous VMA dress and award at the end... As you can probably tell from my interminable (bordering on insufferable) but non-exhaustive spiel, I am mega-enthusiastic about this music video and the prospect of TS-6. My religious and moral views aside, I think that this work of art is laudable and riveting. Yes, it might be another 'sordid’ display of Taylor’s cryptic diatribe and stabs of vengeance at everyone who has ever criticised or slighted her since day dot, but I can honestly say that she and and her team went to town with this and made sure to dot every 'i’ and cross every ’t’ along the way (pun intended). This audacious tango between popular culture á-la-Taylor and symbolism, to the beat of no other than Taylor’s own drum, is nothing short of galvanising, as well as empowering, and no doubt glorifies all of Taylor’s reputations, past and evolved alike. And as if it couldn't get any better, she chooses to release this exceptional music video on the exact same day as the VMAs. Look what we made her do.
me making an apperance at family parties
welcome to the glitter gang - a creative movement characterized by individuals that are no longer afraid to be outspoken, to stand for something, to challenge the world around them. instead, we choose to be bold. we choose to shine bright. we choose to radiate love and light. loudly. you ready? ✨💕⚡️#theglittergang (at Los Angeles, California)
is it just me or do u ever think about how convenient it would be to have retractable arms? at least 4 times a day i’m like “uh there is nowhere to put my arms right now!!” and they just dangle there awkwardly as pictured in this photo. 🙃
One of the most relatable, kickass, talented, relatable, awesome, and all-round beautiful people in the galaxy right here, folks! And have I mentioned relatable? 💖🙋🏻
Letting go
In with the good, and out with the bad... for good.
//Astray//
I snapped this scene on my phone, just as I had snapped out of my reverie concerning said scene, and as my mum and I were driving away. That reverie, dear reader, was derived from the cascade of mixed emotions and repressed memories that inundated my mind, as elicited by the stark reality that I was beholding. As I sat there in our comfortably plush, air-conditioned car, a striking dissonance to the ramshackle, often sordid, and occasionally putrid local produce market in which a small community thrived and depended on, and which just so happened to be where my mum was currently shopping, my mind started to wander. The first of many anecdotes that emerged in my head related to memories from years ago, where, as a child, I so petulantly and somewhat ignorantly longed for an escape from this life of 'filth’ and ‘unease’. And escape I did, at the age of 15, turning on 16, to a land that I, and no doubt many others, deem as being more progressive, civilised, and cultured. This was no other than Australia, and I truly believed, at my unripened age, that I was finally ‘emancipated’ from the society in which I had no say in being a part of in the first place. Now, you may be thinking that I was an avaricious ingrate, and you may be shaking your head in disapproval of my ignominy… but the truth is that I actually do agree that I was and probably still am, an ingrate, and I myself feel defiled by my own selfishness. Truth be told, there is nothing erroneous in wishing for and/or pursuing a ‘better life’ or ‘golden opportunities’, or in feeling slightly envious of people who have been born with a silver spoon in their mouths, because all ambitions do start with the seedlings of dreams, no matter which corner of the world or class of social status you belong to. However, things start to teeter precariously on the precipice of going egregiously awry when we become so consumed with renouncing our backgrounds, race, or even our own names, as a largely futile means of being ‘accepted’ into a revered society of elitism, OR worse still, as a means of attaining a sort of artificial peace of mind, through the subtle art of deceiving ourselves that we should and can ‘eradicate’ the parts of our cultures that we’ve been ideologically brainwashed into thinking are inferior. When put under that sort of light or lens, suddenly the possibility of a neo- Holocaust seems all too real and even startlingly ominous, especially as we realise that we ourselves are the oft-unknowing perpetrators of our own identity’s demise and subsequently, that of our nation state’s or cultural heritage.
With this in mind, allow me to return to this photo above. On the left we have an emaciated stray dog, one out of many that roam the streets and alleyways of my hometown every day, in search of shelter and food, and that is now seen foraging through a discarded disposable plastic bag, forgotten by a careless shopper or weary vendor. On the right, we see one of those vendor’s trucks, a commonplace vehicle on roads here for transporting migrant workers or produce, and which doubles as a makeshift shelter for strays, away from the searing and harshly unforgiving sunlight (if you look closer you’ll notice one of the inconspicuous form of yet another stray dog catching 40 winks underneath the truck’s tray).
These simple objects/subjects are plotted against an even more minimalistic background, devoid of the hustle and bustle of its short-lived peak hours, and which is a more low-key representation of local business settings here (as opposed to foreign franchises and larger stores stocking manufactured goods). Overall, this picture connotes and conveys ambiguity; it appears peaceful and unpolluted by the bells and whistles of the 21st century, yet at the same time it is a symbol of the dire need for proper drainage and sanitation networks, effective animal welfare systems, as well as for more ethical political and economic reform in the state. Moreover, it is merely a minute glimpse into life in this city; a paradoxical highlight at most, and I say this because there is so much more to the bigger picture beyond this, in terms of both negative as well as positive aspects.
This is the nation that my forefathers arrived at centuries ago, and which I ‘fled’ from as soon as I could, centuries later. We, as humans and sentient beings, are always searching for the ‘bigger and better’, in turn overlooking the positives around us as we so foolishly magnify even the tiniest of negatives. I was caught up with rebuking the education system, bashing rote-learning and lamenting the state of school facilities, as well as condemning the political and legal system, fraught with corruption, fallacious democratic rhetoric, and the opaque laws that pervade… and I truly believed that the fail-proof solution to my predicament would be to run away from it (ideally to somewhere substantially different and ‘advanced’). This is where my self-deception lay, and where I should have taken heed of a potent message my late maternal grandmother had passed onto my mother, and which my mother passed onto me: which was to be grateful, and to feel blessed to live in such a “heaven on earth” like Malaysia.
It’s true, that the Malaysia I know now is far from a utopia. But neither was it paradise back then, nor Australia, where I study and live in for most of the year, an ideal haven either. Although Malaysia is certainly not as developed as nations like Australia, in terms of its infrastructure, public systems, and the like, and may appear to be fraught with corruption, otiose norms, and verboten oppressive issues, the plain truth is that no man’s land is without its troubles; this was the exact ball that I had missed all those years ago, when it came to my biased and unfounded judgments.
I must confess; I was ashamed of where I came from, and therefore, who I was. Coming from a country where the use of indicator lights is largely redundant or a perceived inconvenience, and where back roads are riddled with pot holes that fill to the brim during rainy weather due to deficiencies in drainage systems, and comparing that to the highlight reels of countries far away from my own, I felt a seemingly insurmountable urge to quell these inherent tenets of my life.
Now, after years of blindsiding myself, I am ashamed of being ashamed. My country, my name, and my heritage… are innate parts of me and are indelible extensions of my cultural reality and physical being. And perhaps, most importantly, they should be, and are indeed, a source of pride as well as a cause for gratitude in my life. The emancipation of mind and soul does not culminate from external factors, but rather from an internal sense of acceptance, an embracing of the given, and the wisdom to discern good from bad, from what should and should not be done.
I was so caught up in trying to attain a certain level of comfort and ‘perfection’ for myself (and as I mentioned earlier, there is nothing wrong with wanting great things for yourself), but this made me selfish and desensitised towards the bigger picture vis-a-vis the macro, meso, and micro level issues faced by own community, nation, and the world beyond; issues such as wealth inequality, international relations, public welfare, and the economics surrounding the lives of people around me. Now, I am grateful to have been bestowed the wisdom and knowledge of hindsight and age, so that I may begin to question the dynamics and underlying factors surrounding these issues, and hopefully come up with viable and compassionate solutions to them, as opposed to simply physically and mentally running away from them in cowardly, one-track-minded ignorance as I did when I was a teen.
Truth be told, Malaysia is very much an endowed country, in terms of natural resources and human capital. And it is developing, albeit at a slower pace than some of its counterparts (whether you choose to analyse this phenomenon via a modernisation or dependency approach). It is blessed with lush landscapes and idyllic natural attractions, and has a temperate (but sometimes muggy) tropical climate. It has its ups and downs, just like any other nation on this planet does. Moreover, it is relatively peaceful and free from the influence of xenophobia, and hosts an overall thriving and vibrant community that finds pleasure in the simple things in life.
It would be unnecessary, irrelevant, and too complex to even attempt to count every single blessing and curse in every nation, and dynamism and subjectivity themselves would exacerbate this exercise of futility. And that, dear reader, is why the habit of only examining subsets if information, be it positive or negative, making biased attributions or judgments based on those observations, and viewing the scenes before your eyes in isolation (literally and figuratively), is merely self-deceptive, and counterproductive, to say the least. Beyond this bubble, this single mundane image above, therein lie images of resilience, humility, diligence, and resourcefulness, all steeped in a rich infusion of history and uniqueness. There are a myriad of exuberant colours beyond the bleak manmade horizon, and most importantly, there is life. And where there is life, there is hope, no matter where we are. It is within ourselves, it is universal, and it is the unifying force that all of us must seek to harness, and to generate in abundance. Indeed, it is all that REALLY matters, at the end of the day.
I know now, that I should not and cannot run, nor hide, from anything.
I choose to embrace everything…
beginning from what I am a part of,
and in preserving the things that are a part of me.
But along the way, I also hope to give back, to share, and to help make wherever I am, a better place to be.
//It’s not a state of mind no, your head’s just in a state// Throwback to a couple of weeks ago, when I was in a really good mood: sunny disposition + walking- on-cloud9 kinda vibes and all… And then it came crashing down in a perfect storm when some guy brusquely shouted “WAKE UP!” in my face as he sped past me on his bicycle on the footpath. I’m an oversensitive (perhaps unduly) person, so it definitely shook me up and made me wanna retreat into a dark hole or blanket fort, strip off my skin, and sleep till the memory waned. It’s funny how one little or seemingly unrelated incident that happens out of he blue can alter your mood and mindset in a split second. From feeling confident, jovial, and happy, I started feeling withdrawn, pathetic, abashed, and unworthy. In short, I descended into yet another cycle of self-loathing; one that I’m all to familiar with, and which I still have to deal with once in a while, as do other people do. My self-esteem plummeted; although I was most likely just riding on a high and there wasn’t really any solid foundation on which I could stand or from which I could build my confidence. I don’t know about you, but when I use material pleasures and inflated versions of optimistic thought to try to construct an artificial state of ‘happiness’ in order to forget about things when I’m stressed, that state is short-lived and when it does die out, it leaves a big, gaping chasm in my soul. So about half an hour after I started feeling like a deflated filthbag (my honest opinion), my sister, her fiancé, and I walked into the State Building to go to one of the jewellers there to see their wedding rings. I had told them about the incident and how it affected me, so they didn’t question me when I decided to just stay outside the shop to mull things over ie. wallow by myself. Being alone, away from the crowded streets and frenetic state of things, I got a few minutes to gather and recalibrate my thoughts. I also took out my phone by instinct (the same phone that landed me in that position in the first place 🙄; I thought I should mention that. Tut tut). I looked around, and it was like all the noise, from both inside and around myself, dissipated (There’s some lofty/cheesy romanticisation for you). I was standing in silence and I just started marvelling at how serene and warm the building’ interior looked, and I took some photos to seal the whole cathartic experience. Now, I’m no photographer, not in any way, shape, or form. But there’s something intriguingly abstract that has always drawn me towards the composed life behind the lens, when the life around it is changing so quickly and dynamically. Perhaps it’s because I’ve always, for as long as I can remember, had a sort of bugbear or fear of change, and which translated into a yearning to capture each frame in life as I see it, and then to immortalise it. Being through therapy helped me learn that all the obsessive behaviours, disordered eating, and hoarding compulsions that I displayed, were actually my subliminal’s smart-aleck idea of trying to control anything and everything I possibly could. But anyways, there’s only so long that I can remain a passenger on a single train of negative thoughts, until I have to find a way home to 'normal’ thoughts. Getting off that train is the first step (pun intended), and from right there onwards, you’re forced to face the fact that you’ve bought yourself that ticket in the first place… but that there’s still a way to get back to where you need to be. Now, I understand that CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) isn’t a cookie cutter approach to ameliorating all sorts of 'pessimistic or disordered thought processes… and indeed, I myself was a sceptic years ago when I first got treatment for various, co-morbid disorders (anorexia, depression, and OCD). I was also made even more wary when I didn’t get instant results. There aren’t any shortcuts, guys 🤷🏻♀️. However, CBT practices did finally start working out for me just over 2 years ago, and since then, not only have I discovered the activities that help to distract me from obsessing over matters, but I have also rediscovered and reignited my true passions, such as photography, writing, and anything distinctly related to sartorial matters and wearable items (a bit dicey here, due to triggers 😳). I thought that those passions had been dead, buried, and forgotten ages ago… and perhaps they were… but somehow, by the power of my mind vested in me by God, I was able to resurrect them and realise that food, as well as my other destructive obsessions, were nothing but false gods all along. So you might me thinking, “Hey you just went off on a tangent with this testimony” or “What does this have to do with trains?”. Well, yes, I did go off on a tangent, but as a matter of fact, I just elucidated the mode of transport that got me back to where I needed to be, and in an even shorter time than the 'negative train’ took to get me derailed and seemingly, irrevocably lost. It’s called PASSION, and it’s how I look within my soul, using the various media outside myself, in order to get back to that safe and sound state of mind inside my head, if that makes sense. So yeah, in retrospect and with the benefits of hindsight, the things that all those psychologists and psychiatrists told me in CBT were true, even though I was in the 'knowing’, rather than 'doing’ stage at the time. When I did finally get hit with a nail in my head to start practising what I preached, that’s when I took the leap to just follow what other happy, carefree, and productive people were doing. And as practice makes perfect, I gradually became assimilated with these newfound, healthier habits, so much so that they are now sufficiently ingrained in my subliminal. It all began with the first few snaps on the camera, and the first few strokes of a pen, and now it’s my permanent Uber for when I ever get lost on those pesky trains of thought. I’m very happy to say that on that day, just shortly after my little 'breather’ and photo sesh, I was well on my way to turning my frown upside down again. Till my next journey 🤙🏼.
The best things in life aren't free, they're priceless.
Beauty should not be wholly defined by numbers on a scale.
Intelligence should not be wholly defined by numbers on a report card.
Self-worth should not be wholly defined by numbers in a bank account.
Amiability should not be wholly defined by numbers on social media.
Your value is infinite; it is incommensurate with the rigid facts and figures of this fickle, superficial, and hedonistic world. If we let ourselves be defined by the standards of people who are not living your life for you, you are, by default, allowing them free reign over your thoughts, actions, self-esteem, and decisions.
However, (and there is always a flip side to the coin), it is by no means an easy task to be so headstrong, reassured in yourself, determined, tenacious, and readily enthusiastic, that you are able to eschew the self-doubt that emanates from the seemingly harmless opinions and evaluations of yourself by others.
Our minds are extremely pliant mediums, and our thoughts are their similarly volatile products, which, of course, are susceptible to our surreptitious human trappings that threaten to bend and break us. But although it's hard to overcome the initial qualms and reservations, we can, if we are audacious enough, rise above what is manifestly human, and tap into our consciences and souls; they are, sempiternally, unfettered and untarnished by the illusions and rhetoric of societal structures.
If we can recognise, understand, and harness our true, boundless potentials, then we become beings in a class of our own; we cannot and will not settle for mediocrity and we will enter the realms of genuine uniqueness and peace within and between ourselves as travellers on this earth. We will build each other up continually, and work tirelessly to attain so much more than dollar bills, awards, and other normative and artificially-engendered benchmarks.
But I do urge you to take my words with caution and with your own perspective on your goals and expectations. Reassess, analyse, and continue to examine the reasons why you are striving for something, and whether or not you are losing a part of your precious soul in the process. This does not mean that I am entirely quashing or dissenting the notions of awards, parameters, standards. As fluid beings, we need a semblance of structure to help guide our lives. That is exactly the reason why I propose that we be not 'wholly' defined by them (see above). They are merely guides, not prescribed moulds for our lives, and we are the masters of our own choices and emotions. If we choose to believe our own potentials and those of others around us, and consciously go beyond perceptual biases and preconceptions, then we can create synergies that can hopefully make the world a happier, or at least less bitter, place.
Perhaps some elements of the phrase "Money can't buy happiness" rings true. Inner enlightenment cannot be bought or gained through the acclaim of others; it can only be unleashed through taking hold of the power self, and the knowledge and understanding of how infinitesimally abundant the riches of our souls are in the opulent fabric of the universe, in stark contrast to the 'manufactured' bells and whistles of our materialistic society. Through this accession of control, we are, in effect, truly emancipated.
“The beginnings and ends of shadow lie between the light and darkness and may be infinitely diminished and infinitely increased. Shadow is the means by which bodies display their forms. The forms of bodies could not be understood in detail but for shadow.” - Leonardo da Vinci
Based on a fan theory, your favorite characters in Winnie the Pooh might be suffering with these disorders. According to the Canadian Medical Association, each Winnie the Pooh character symbolizes a certain mental disorder. The
Cheers from this awkward potato
“I’ve said it once, I’ve said it twice, I’ve said it a thousand f-…….” Well to be fair, I’ve really only said it twice. And not even in any particular context, at that.
Perhaps this reference doesn’t fit in this mould; a sentence so indelibly linked to a particular context, neither seen nor explicit, but nonetheless force-fed discreetly by those who serve it, and accepted by those who digest it.
But does the fact that it’s taken out of the sanctity of its abode, or even clandestinely borrowed from under the noses of those who speak it so vociferously, preclude its adaptation or assimilation in a state not endemic to its birthplace?
You might argue that the rule-of-thumb prescribes that words be assigned their meanings based on the contexts in which they’re generated and elucidated…
But sometimes rules are meant to be broken and blended and regurgitated… They are not the law, at least not in the domain of creativity, where the only boundaries that fetter it are the imaginations of the 7.5 billion strong, and where art is its cornerstone and medium.
Perhaps a line from a movie, or a lyric from a song, evokes a certain reminiscent emotion, an understanding, or a perception of the world. They construct our realities time and time again, and we live in them day-to-day without questioning the subconscious. But what if we did?
Words often have a multiplicity of meanings in art… so ubiquitous that it might have so few intended messages and a plethora of the perceived. And they are incessantly reinventing and adding to the out personal constructions of reality, bedecking, expanding, and embellishing the truth as we see fit.
But because our innate self-interested natures, our competitive streaks, our egotistical personas… but also our inner yearnings to herald change and ‘peace’, we don’t usually make art instead of war… we make war from and with art; albeit more civil in intensity, extensity, and velocity. Conflicts of interest and the clashing of minds will persist as long as heterogeneity walks the earth. But then again, there are glaring exceptions, and so much more to the generalisation than we often assume; pens are sharper than the swords we wield, and our tongues cut deeper than the blades we take to our skin. Words are geopolitical weapons (propaganda, anyone?), and our minds are battlefields in and of itself. The emotional and the mental… are harbingers of so much more than the physical. Indeed, without the former, the latter is futile and weak at its best.
So take as you wish, and use at your own discretion. Words are your grindstone; sharpen your pens and minds with care. Share your realities, enrich and be enriched. But take what you choose to receive with a grain of salt, and delve deeper if you dare.
And always reference… if it dawns on you that your ‘borrowing’ borders on ‘stealing’. Cause plagiarism isn’t human nature’s cup of tea.
Which reminds me, I 'borrowed’ that quote from 'It Never Ends’ by BMTH.
It’s an absolute jam, by the way.
And what about my infatuation with the words 'KEEP CLEAR’, you ask? Well those two words got me thinking of all the aforementioned things above. About how it speaks volumes, about so much more than keeping walkways or parking lots clear.
It’s loud, yet discreet.
Noticeable, yet obscure.
A product of a literal message, yet the seeds of countless more in my mind. I could continue overthinking… and the truth is that it never ends (yeah well I thought I’d throw in the actual reference to the song name). But I urge you to read all this (assuming that you have borne with me thus far), scan it, and process it yourself. What you perceive will never be a carbon copy of what I intended. And that’s okay. Because all that matters is that it gets you thinking, and prevents you from stopping at a conclusive answer or method, or merely skimming the surface of your thoughts.
*AFTERTHOUGHT* Perhaps that is why I constantly overthink my decisions and wallow in the remorse of bygones and embarrassing choices… I let my own judgments of my own words become influenced and clouded over by hypothetical perceptions by hypothetical people.
I would love to eradicate this harmful tendency of mine, but that’s how I construct my reality… and that’s what gives me the verve and wisdom to do things the way I do. Words mean so much to me, and no doubt to many others, so much more than mere words can describe.
◾️Monochrome Dreams◽️ I feel comfort in the peaceful chaos, The bedlam is where I’ll rest; Solace in this solitary madness, A silent film inside my head. • I’m falling in slow motion, As reality fades away; A reverie painted from ashes, And dreams from words unsaid. • Cause nothing ceases to exist, When the somethings stay the same; Just a something is what I’m searching for, But I’m lost in the maze of change.
“Don’t go; I can’t do this on my own. Don’t go; I can’t do this on my own. Save me from the ones that haunt me in the night. I can’t live with myself, so stay with me tonight. Don’t go. Don’t go…”