May 18, 2012

(via suicideblonde)

5:39pm
May 18, 2012
Reading Marx's Capital with David Harvey

socbooks:

culturalmarxist:

For my money, this is the best way to read Capital, as Harvey is fantastic at explaining complex ideas in familiar language. There’s also a book, which tends to go into more detail, but these video lectures I thought were great because you could alternate between book and video as you’re reading. 

Anyway, I’d seen a few posts these past couple days suggesting ways to learn about Marxism so I thought I’d just point this out. Find an e-book version of Capital  and start learning today.

I completely forgot about this.  Reblogging for the anon who asked for resources on Marx.  I will upload a copy of Capital later today for others interested.

(via )

5:34pm
May 15, 2012

The Be Good Tanyas Waitin’ Around to Die (jhgf11 tarafından)

1:26am
May 15, 2012

(Source: guzelonlu)

12:54am
May 15, 2012
timelightbox: © Maggie Steber As her memory loss wore on, I decreased Madje’s medications because some of these hasten death and I didn’t like seeing her overmedicated, something that can easily happen in assisted living facilities and with doctors. But she slept a lot anyway, just tired from life, I guess.  So I photographed her sleeping quite a bit. Sometimes I think it was to get used to seeing what she would look like when she was dead but one was nothing like the other at all. I love this photograph.  She’s a so beautiful here, her long skirt swirled out, her face reflecting her Native American heritage, her favorite little stuffed kitty—she always loved cats.  She is so peaceful here and the light comes in through the window like some prelude to going on. — Maggie Steber You can support Maggie’s project on Kickstarter here.

timelightbox:

© Maggie Steber

As her memory loss wore on, I decreased Madje’s medications because some of these hasten death and I didn’t like seeing her overmedicated, something that can easily happen in assisted living facilities and with doctors. But she slept a lot anyway, just tired from life, I guess.  So I photographed her sleeping quite a bit. Sometimes I think it was to get used to seeing what she would look like when she was dead but one was nothing like the other at all. I love this photograph.  She’s a so beautiful here, her long skirt swirled out, her face reflecting her Native American heritage, her favorite little stuffed kitty—she always loved cats.  She is so peaceful here and the light comes in through the window like some prelude to going on.

— Maggie Steber

You can support Maggie’s project on Kickstarter here.

12:42am
May 15, 2012
timelightbox: © Maggie Steber I photographed my mother in as many ways as I could for the last five or six years of her life.  One weekend while I had her at my home in Miami, I set up a backdrop and photographed her sitting on a stool.  It was simple and clean.  But what was amazing about that day was the ease with which she did as I asked.  There had been years when Madje wouldn’t let me photograph her. I think I know why… she wasn’t aging well, her beauty was gone, and she didn’t want to be seen that way nor look at herself.  This is how I knew the dementia had taken over, that she had forgotten she didn’t like being photographed.  I guess some people will say I took advantage and even that I am exposing someone who had no say in it.  All I can say to that is this: until you go through it, you cannot know what treasures these photographs become, especially if this is your only family.  My mother was a scientist and I like to think that she would like for people to know her story if it can help them, or help their children understand what happens, what people go through, what is required and what you, as the caregiver, can do to help along the way, to just hang on during that roller coaster ride, to cross the sea to the horizon where they then have to go on alone.  For me, these photographs are a celebration of love and dedication and I need them, I need them for me. — Maggie Steber You can support Maggie’s project on Kickstarter here.

timelightbox:

© Maggie Steber

I photographed my mother in as many ways as I could for the last five or six years of her life.  One weekend while I had her at my home in Miami, I set up a backdrop and photographed her sitting on a stool.  It was simple and clean.  But what was amazing about that day was the ease with which she did as I asked.  There had been years when Madje wouldn’t let me photograph her. I think I know why… she wasn’t aging well, her beauty was gone, and she didn’t want to be seen that way nor look at herself.  This is how I knew the dementia had taken over, that she had forgotten she didn’t like being photographed.  I guess some people will say I took advantage and even that I am exposing someone who had no say in it.  All I can say to that is this: until you go through it, you cannot know what treasures these photographs become, especially if this is your only family.  My mother was a scientist and I like to think that she would like for people to know her story if it can help them, or help their children understand what happens, what people go through, what is required and what you, as the caregiver, can do to help along the way, to just hang on during that roller coaster ride, to cross the sea to the horizon where they then have to go on alone.  For me, these photographs are a celebration of love and dedication and I need them, I need them for me.

— Maggie Steber

You can support Maggie’s project on Kickstarter here.

12:40am
May 9, 2012
"Mann writes about her daughter’s complaint that today, not working outside the home and enjoying motherhood is looked upon with scorn. What I see is the wider issue that most of our choices, as women, are looked upon with scorn. To work, or stay at home. Have a “career”, or a “job”. Have children when we’re 20, or when we’re 30. Send them to nursery while we work, or spend all our time with them. Pursue personal interests, or have none. Be open about enjoying sex, or be open about having issues with it. Society sets us up to judge the choices of others, creating “wars” and “catfights” rather than encouraging us to press for change. And it is this that often prevents us from seeing the bigger picture, so keen are we to assert the validity of whatever choices we’ve made."

— Hannah Mudge: The Fifties: a warning from history (via rachelhills)

(via snowdropxvx)

2:03am
May 2, 2012
“Ancak biraz çoğunu, biraz fazlasını yaparak, aklın yabancılaştıran çalışmasını arzunun özgürleştiren çalışmasıyla değiş tokuş edebiliyordu” Bir Aile Cinayeti-Michel Foucault

“Ancak biraz çoğunu, biraz fazlasını yaparak, aklın yabancılaştıran çalışmasını arzunun özgürleştiren çalışmasıyla değiş tokuş edebiliyordu”

Bir Aile Cinayeti-Michel Foucault

(via sirlamelot)

11:38am
April 25, 2012
undr: Robert Capa Kermesse Annuelle de Seville, 1935

undr:

Robert Capa

Kermesse Annuelle de Seville, 1935

12:50am
March 31, 2012
youngstero: “And now I want to tell you about my late Uncle Alex. He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well-read and wise. His principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is!” So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” - Kurt Vonnegut in A Man Without A Country, 2005

youngstero:

“And now I want to tell you about my late Uncle Alex.

He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well-read and wise.

His principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is!”

So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

- Kurt Vonnegut in A Man Without A Country, 2005

3:15am
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