Guildensnack

"f@*%ing secret societies, you just don't know what they do"

24!!!

Lots has changed since high school. Lots. There was a time when I didn’t know you very well and thought I was hot shit for rising in the ranks of a high school drama club, and so I was probably pretty snooty. But since then (although we rarely talk here or on FB) I’ve got to know your wit and your unwavering social consciousness, which have propelled you to some pretty amazing things in real life (in addition to calling out the oppressive stuff here). I’m glad that the assortment of high school folks here includes the people it does, because you are the ones I was most looking forward to following after I graduated.

More Numbers

53. I’ve got a lot of respect for the art you make, first of all. I also admire your tireless service to the department and your tolerance of doofuses like me in the studio. It’s weird that we lived in the same building last year and didn’t interact. For a while I think I was suspicious of how hip you were but that’s obviously dumb and now of course it’s nice seeing you around and I’m glad we’re at the smiling-as-we-pass level of friendship, at least. On a bloggy note, I’m a fan of pretty much everything you post, and you don’t shy away from personal stuff, which is neat.

14~~~~. You were one of the first people who I knew on tumblr before speaking with in real life. Unfortunately, as I have previously noted, it’s a little hard for me to be very outgoing sometimes, so that speaking has consisted (I think entirely) of a couple sentences in either the cafe or the commons. Apart from that I know you entirely through a mutual friend. The limits of our interaction aside, from what I’ve gathered you have excellent taste and you’re very sharp. You’re one of the people I wish I had time to get to know better while here.

twelve. On the opposite end of the spectrum, it sucks that you left before I had the chance to get to know you here. We have a lot in common — scifi shows & books, etc. but I think we just kinda missed each other. You’ve got another great sense of style (I’m beginning to think that the average person I know is just very stylin’) and you were one of the more genuinely positive people I met here. You were also extremely impressive/slightly intimidatingly knowledgable in the HP class we had, and it was nice when we finally were able to have friendly chats a couple of years later.

(Sorry if some of these are vague — it’s hard to remember a lot of things, especially when many interactions have been internet-based)

Wisconsin Mutual (numbers, round 1)

3. You’re kick-ass, wonderfully generous and thoughtful, and wickedly hilarious. You’re best friends with at least one of my best friends; why don’t all of us hang out more often? (Gotta be honest, I religiously follow your personal tumblr posts as a poor substitute. I’m one shy dude sometimes). Also, I immensely admire your poise and strength in the face of truly awful experiences — especially everything you’ve done to create and maintain multiple safe spaces for those who share them.

EIGHT. You’re also an inspiration. You’re relentlessly honest with yourself and with others, even when the climate for that can be discouraging sometimes. You’re warm and enthusiastic and bright and you make me smile. You get so much out of what you do and you give so, so much of yourself back. But beyond that (and I think it’s easy to overlook because what you give is a lot less visible than most of the artists we know), you’re brilliant. I can’t wait to see where you go.

wnyc:

Studio 360 still wants your collective nouns. The show has ten modern types of people for you to collectivize — from DJs to indie filmmakers. Here are a few of the favorites thus far:

A Duchamp of conceptual artists – Carole Cropley from Olympia, Washington
A quibble of critics – Barbara Belknap from Minnetonka, Minnesota
A racket of DJs – David Kyler from Saint Simons Island, Georgia
A monocle of hipsters – Jonathan Kulik from Santa Monica, California
An illusion of indie filmmakers – Barbara
A khaki of IT guys – Jonathan
A pretense of operagoers – David
A vengeance of Trekkies – Barbara
A vision of venture capitalists – Carole
A contortion of yoga instructors – Jonathan
Submit yours here:
http://wnyc.org/2C6TL

wnyc:

Studio 360 still wants your collective nouns. The show has ten modern types of people for you to collectivize — from DJs to indie filmmakers. Here are a few of the favorites thus far:

  • A Duchamp of conceptual artists – Carole Cropley from Olympia, Washington
  • quibble of critics – Barbara Belknap from Minnetonka, Minnesota
  • racket of DJs – David Kyler from Saint Simons Island, Georgia
  • monocle of hipsters – Jonathan Kulik from Santa Monica, California
  • An illusion of indie filmmakers – Barbara
  • khaki of IT guys – Jonathan
  • pretense of operagoers – David
  • vengeance of Trekkies – Barbara
  • vision of venture capitalists – Carole
  • contortion of yoga instructors – Jonathan

Submit yours here:

http://wnyc.org/2C6TL

theatlantic:

Surviving Syria’s Civil War With Heavy Metal

On a scorching August day in 2011, in the city of Homs, the Syrian conflict nearly swallowed Monzer Darwish. The 23-year-old graphic designer, who grew up in nearby Hama, had stopped at a cafe with his fiancée, only to take cover in the establishment at the sound of screaming outside. When they finally ventured into the street, they heard a pop—pop, pop, and someone fell. Then everyone ran. “The whole street was literally on fire,” he recalled.
Fleeing the violence, Darwish wrestled with the kinds of questions many face during war. What do you do if you don’t want to take a side? If you don’t want to take up arms? If you want to keep your community from being torn apart? If you can’t escape? Many of his friends found themselves in a similar situation, and they sought emotional refuge through music, even live heavy-metal concerts near the frontlines. Reconnecting with these peers, Darwish decided to film how this alternative community—musicians and fans alike—was surviving amid the country’s three-year civil war.
Heavy metal, with its macabre poetry, thundering elegies, and violent moshing, has often resonated with young people and helped them express solidarity with one another during periods of political and social tension. But Darwish wanted to show how Syria’s “metal heads” and alternative youth, like their peers in Iraq and Afghanistan, are turning to the music not only as a way to cope with mass trauma, but also as a means of conducting a brutally honest dialogue about how to survive war and reform society.
The result: a rockumentary called Syrian Metal Is War. For much of the last year, Darwish has crisscrossed the country to film every metal musician he can find. He’s uploaded a trailer to YouTube, and he hopes to screen a rough cut of the full film in Beirut by late spring.
Read more. [Image: Daniel J. Gerstle]


CALVIN bloodofancients

theatlantic:

Surviving Syria’s Civil War With Heavy Metal

On a scorching August day in 2011, in the city of Homs, the Syrian conflict nearly swallowed Monzer Darwish. The 23-year-old graphic designer, who grew up in nearby Hama, had stopped at a cafe with his fiancée, only to take cover in the establishment at the sound of screaming outside. When they finally ventured into the street, they heard a pop—pop, pop, and someone fell. Then everyone ran. “The whole street was literally on fire,” he recalled.

Fleeing the violence, Darwish wrestled with the kinds of questions many face during war. What do you do if you don’t want to take a side? If you don’t want to take up arms? If you want to keep your community from being torn apart? If you can’t escape? Many of his friends found themselves in a similar situation, and they sought emotional refuge through music, even live heavy-metal concerts near the frontlines. Reconnecting with these peers, Darwish decided to film how this alternative community—musicians and fans alike—was surviving amid the country’s three-year civil war.

Heavy metal, with its macabre poetry, thundering elegies, and violent moshing, has often resonated with young people and helped them express solidarity with one another during periods of political and social tension. But Darwish wanted to show how Syria’s “metal heads” and alternative youth, like their peers in Iraq and Afghanistan, are turning to the music not only as a way to cope with mass trauma, but also as a means of conducting a brutally honest dialogue about how to survive war and reform society.

The result: a rockumentary called Syrian Metal Is War. For much of the last year, Darwish has crisscrossed the country to film every metal musician he can find. He’s uploaded a trailer to YouTube, and he hopes to screen a rough cut of the full film in Beirut by late spring.

Read more. [Image: Daniel J. Gerstle]

CALVIN bloodofancients
randomhouse:

Some beautiful, beautiful nerds pieced together a geological history of Westeros! (Click through for full-size)

Geologic events occurring XX million years ago (Mya) on Westeros:(today) The size of the Game of Thrones planet(25 Mya) The Earth split Westeros from Essos(30-40 Mya) When Dorne boiled(40 Mya) Land of ice(60-80 Mya) The rise of the Black Mountains(80-100 Mya) As the Moon rose, so did the Lannisters(300 Mya) Diving the tropical reefs of Winterfell(450 Mya) The sand ran red(500 Mya) The first mountains

(via The geology of Game of Thrones | Generation Anthropocene)

butterbong HAVE YOU SEEN THIS

randomhouse:

Some beautiful, beautiful nerds pieced together a geological history of Westeros! (Click through for full-size)

Geologic events occurring XX million years ago (Mya) on Westeros:
(today) The size of the Game of Thrones planet
(25 Mya) The Earth split Westeros from Essos
(30-40 Mya) When Dorne boiled
(40 Mya) Land of ice
(60-80 Mya) The rise of the Black Mountains
(80-100 Mya) As the Moon rose, so did the Lannisters
(300 Mya) Diving the tropical reefs of Winterfell
(450 Mya) The sand ran red
(500 Mya) The first mountains

(via The geology of Game of Thrones | Generation Anthropocene)

butterbong HAVE YOU SEEN THIS