holdfast

and we will tell the story again & again & again

[havingapoemwithyou]

Sabbaths, 1993, I by Wendell Berry

[mental-mona]

Better to admit you walked through the wrong door than spend your entire life in the wrong room.

- Grant Cordone

[maudlingoblin]

the timeless mantra of long-distance friendships:

[havingapoemwithyou]

Essay on Crying at Night by Ken Chen

[geryone]

Hindsight, Rosanna Warren

[oozins]

i’m shot to the moon

[segamascott]

[oedipalrivalry]

First the musette in the instep died, now the little boy. The footballer Van Basten has always remained a little boy: in love with the game. Ambitious, brilliant, spoilt, dreamy and hopeless, and the echo of it all within the sixteen-metre box. The ball was his reason for being. I’d be surprised if he’d ever seen a tree grow, and I’m sure he never went to Efteling with Liesbeth and the children. Just give me that ball – day and night. The frenzied fuss over status, prestigious encounters or charitable causes simply didn’t register with him. Charisma, power (off the pitch), patriotism and club interests were concepts from another planet. As befits a striker, Marco shone in social apathy. Van Basten belonged only to himself: ‘I am the best, apart from me.’ He was so pure in his selfishness that even that became beautiful.

Strikers these days have an eternal dilemma. Or a moral dilemma. By their own admission, they only score with the help of God or his earthly messengers. Even the most fortuitous fluke goal is dedicated to a distant uncle or aunt who used to make sure there was meat on the table. The world’s suffering is also readily invoked to dampen the euphoria surrounding the team’s brilliant performance. Footballers now prefer to have an X-ray taken of their tormented soul rather than of their deft scissor kick. There is a great deal of false modesty in that world. Van Basten was not bothered by that. He felt no embarrassment about personal success. In that sense, he was a very un-Dutch footballer. He always wanted to show and let everyone know just what a real man he was. “I’m the man again,” he sang to himself after a successful performance. It didn’t make him likeable, but it did make him authentic. Van Basten, incidentally, had no faith in his fellow human beings. He once echoed Ivan Lendl: if you want to rely on someone in top-level sport, buy a dog. (...)

The little boy is dead; long live the man. Marco will now have to face up to adulthood for the first time. It may well be a difficult quest for space, reason and peace of mind. After all, adults, unlike strikers and young boys, are not allowed to be solely themselves. There must be a place somewhere for the fiery temperament of the world’s best centre-forward, but where can he turn with his moments of virtuoso grace? When playing football is no longer possible due to the flying shards of cartilage, dancing also becomes difficult. So the It Club cannot become his new refuge. A little boat on the Vinkeveen lakes? That’s tricky too for a man who, even without the aerodynamic curve of a Hugo Sánchez at his back, has glided across the pitches with unprecedented agility. Praying certainly doesn’t help. That leaves the gamble of a few good friends. And, of course, there’s still Liesbeth, who has proven she can endure the unendurable.

Hugo Camps, Fax, NRC Handelsblad (August 18th 1995)

[top-cheese]

All Great Soccer Players Are Poets by Duy Doan

[havingapoemwithyou]

An Optimism By Cameron Awkward-Rich

[canefantasma]

Franco Balan - Turin Olympic Winter Games, 2006

[apocryphics]

[synapseoftheark]

erm. obsessed with making stupid little color palettes. most of these are named after songs I like

here is a playlist of all of the music I used in these palettes

please tag me in your art if you use them ! :]

[thunderstruck9]

Bin Woo Hyuk (Korean, 1981), The Night of the Midnight Sun, 2025. Oil on linen, 180 × 220 cm.

[claypigeonpottery]

a rainbow of jackalopes

[neonfretra]

[Image description: A white, shallow bowl with rainbow jackalopes running around the inner rim. Each jackelope is an individual frame in a run cycle. End description.]

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Came across this art installation, Liza Lou's Kitchen, at the Whitney Museum of American Art, NYC. It's a kitchen made of tiny glass beads, that artist Liza Lou did, taking 5 yrs. to complete, from 1991 - 1996.

My favorite part is the sink.

Details of a recipe book.

All the details in tiny glass beads.

Love the pie in the oven.

Love this so much.

No wonder it took 5 yrs.

https://whitney.org/collection/works/34855?

[pmamtraveller]

"Everything Appears as it is: Infinite" by Alex Dodge