In my head, I imagine this is what Gotye was really trying to achieve with this song and he got side-tracked with that clinky noise. I mean, seriously, why would you want to sound like a whiny kitty while telling off your ex? You need to sound like *fist into palm* NOW YOU’RE JUST SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW. Something like this.
Mix by Khurram Siddiqi | StudioSapuri | @therealsapuri
“Work hard, love a lot and share even more, so that even when death comes for you, your ideas stay out of its reach.”
The fact of the matter is, it often feels like you don’t just live in Lahore. You exist in a sea of smog and noise and chaos and the nausea of a city that is often at odds with its own history and its own brilliance. Nothing is where it should be and everyone seems to be drifting or rushing through the dusty streets. Motorcyclists veer in and out of traffic at break-neck speed. Kites and crows pick at trash and meat thrown on the side of the roads by believers who think all will be well because of this sadqa to take away the Evil Eye. Children cross thoroughfares without looking both ways. Traffic wardens do their dance of authority with bored expressions on their often handsome faces. At any given moment there are dozens of people overcrowding a public transport bus, clinging on for dear life. The jarring noise of rickshaws mingles with the many calls for prayers from minarets spread like spikes through the mohallas. Questions of science and progress are debated in halls of learning.
There is so much in this city at any given moment that perhaps, for its own citizens, it becomes easier to ignore it all and not feel for it one way or the other. Then sometimes something like this is passed around and its a chance for us all to pause and consider the worth of these ordinary everyday things happening all around us all over again.
Lahore, now, is merely a ghost of its glorious past. That is what some may believe. But those who live here, those who know that no matter where the world goes, there is no other place like this city, they understand that this place is always in transition, and always in repair.
That is its charm. That is its pull.
Here’s Lahore. And you’re always welcome.
Video by Saad Khan; Sound by Khurram Siddiqi.
Perhaps the World Ends Here.
The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what,
we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the
table so it has been since creation, and it will go on.
We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe
at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.
It is here that children are given instructions on what
it means to be human. We make men at it,
we make women.
At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts
of lovers.
Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms
around our children. They laugh with us at our poor
falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back
together once again at the table.
This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella
in the sun.
Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place
to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate
the terrible victory.
We have given birth on this table, and have prepared
our parents for burial here.
At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow.
We pray of suffering and remorse.
We give thanks.
Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table,
while we are laughing and crying,
eating of the last sweet bite.
“When the pawn hits the conflict he thinks like a king; what he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight. And he’ll win the whole thing before he enters the ring…there’s no body to batter when your mind is your might. So when you go solo, you hold your own hand and remember that depth is the greatest of heights. And if you know where you stand then you’ll know where to land - and if you fall it won’t matter because you’ll know that you’re right.”
- Fiona Apple
#Don’t pander to me kid. One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds., #Solar flare might crop up cook us in our seats., #And wait till you’re sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles., #See if you’re still so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding!, #Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence., #keep calm and DAMMIT JIM,
:’D
Oh my god.
My default expression these days.
(Source: silverfoxtrot, via goddessofcheese)
Go Emily! I’m so proud of you! :)Webcomics wunderkind Emily Carroll is taking her deliciously dark comics to dead tree. According to Publishers Weekly, Simon & Schuster’s Margaret K. McElderry Books will be publishing His Face All Red and Other Stories, a book-length collection from the celebrated (mostly) horror-comic creator. The book will also be released in the UK through Faber & Faber and in Italy through Stile Libro.
As a big fan of Carroll’s vibrant colors, exquisite pacing, and genuinely creepy, genuinely bleak stories of murder and monstrousness, I’m really looking forward to this one. I’m doubly curious to see how her existing stories, which frequently make use of the “infinite canvas” of the web in terms of layout, translate to the printed page.
Carroll, might I remind you, had never drawn a comic prior to May 2010. So, y’know, holy smokes. (via Robot 6)
I looooove her art style.
YES
MUST OWN
YES
YAY EMILYYY :D
Yaaaay!!
EMILY YOU CLASSY BROAD. I’m so happy for you!!!
HOLY SHIT THIS IS FABULOUS AND I CAN’T EVEN STOP GRINNING RIGHT NOW IT’S 11 AM IN MY OFFICE kljasldjSALKDJDHKLlkdjaf;/dl;eq!!!
Emily, you champ.
(via knightsofsummer)
Happy Birthday Nicholas Caradoc Hoult (born 7 December 1989)
…hipster Raven King? Aw yeah.
