it is more of a miracle that the act of forcing the impossible is, in the history of political revolution, often catalyzed by something as flimsy as a poster plastered on a wall — the perfect poster on the perfect wall at the perfect moment.
what’s miraculous is not that great graphic design, employing shock, wit, and clarity borne of urgency, can move people to action, to acts of courage and sacrifice, overcoming habit and fear.
art can do that; art is always having those sorts of effects. art can’t change anything except people — but art changes people, and people can make everything change.

tony kushner in his foreword in the design of dissent, p.222

tubuhmu laut;
aku menjelma pesisir.

        biarkanku hanyut;
                                                       larut.

“there is a pleasure in the pathless woods,there is a rapture on the lonely shore,there is society, where none intrudes,by the deep sea, and music in its roar:i love not man the less, but Nature more.” - lord byron

“there is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
there is a rapture on the lonely shore,
there is society, where none intrudes,
by the deep sea, and music in its roar:
i love not man the less, but Nature more.” - lord byron

In this high resolution view of totality during the November 2012 solar eclipse, as the moon moves across the sun, you can see the diamond ring, bailey’s beads, prominences, the solar chromosphere (the thin red surface layer of the sun) and the inner solar corona.

(Source: ikenbot)

(Source: enhanceandescape)

c0ncusssed:

literally my favorite. 

c0ncusssed:

literally my favorite. 

(Source: zinepolice)

and, so, i question: what’s your worst drunk moment? isn’t it frightening to be able to see the obvious stage that you are incapable to control things that you ever thought were your own? i think i have to start to agree that mental illness can only be cured with things & moments that could bring me to my highest level of consciousness. why can’t we escape? had a great drunk, yet great responsibility follows. the smell of the blanket. the color of wet floor. dizzy head; the morning of qualm. i kept remembering scenes of alexander supertramp, quietly believe that i may just end up alone as a stranger, in a strange land, at the strangest moment of manhood; like he did. but my phone rang. perhaps great person also brings great responsibility. or the so called attachment, chemistry. yes, chemistry. i wanted to move all job offers from my inbox to trash bin. i wanted to change the world. but i could not even stand on my own feet. so i didn’t. i remembered nothing. it was one strange morning when i woke up and started to compromise the idea of working. to wonder and wander. to please my lust and get lost. over; and over again. before i regret my regret to get more drunk moments i’d incapable to control. and i have the echo of the words: 
happiness, mccandless said, is only real when shared. and he died. alone.

Love is not primarily a relationship to a specific person; it is an attitude, an ordination of character which determines the relatedness of the person to the whole world as a whole, not toward one object of love.

Erich Fromm (via slychedelic)

(via amodernmanifesto)

kau tahu mengapa aku suka berbicara pada benda-benda? sebab mereka tak merasa dan aku tak perlu menyakiti lagi siapa-siapa.

laut, kamu.

laut, kamu.

Emosi hanya ritual-ritual yang memberatkan sebuah hubungan yang seharusnya berlangsung tetap jernih…. Cara yang paling mungkin dilakukannya untuk itu, adalah membuat jarak menjauh. Dan menatap laut, seperti ia sedang menatap matanya sendiri dari luar tubuhnya. Setiap orang yang pernah membuat pertemuan dengan laut, memiliki hubungan tersendiri dengan laut. Laut seperti menghadirkan sesuatu yang akan pergi dan yang akan datang berulang-ulang. Tetapi laut itu sendiri tidak pernah pergi dan tidak pernah datang ke mana pun. Ia seperti sebuah mata besar yang setia menunggu sambil menjaga batas antara yang datang dan pergi.

Afrizal Malna

tiba-tiba saja aku merasa aku mulai membenci afrizal malna..

kenapa, mapala?

kau tahu alasannya, mengapa aku tak suka merek-merek;

aku menyayangi semesta tanpa harus menyebut diriku anak mapala. anak mapala diadu jantannya ke tengah hutan, adu tenggelam di arus sungai, sesat di padang, dan pulang tanpa mengingat menyimpan sampahnya sendiri. mahasiswa mengaku pencinta alam tapi lebih suka adu kuat menaklukkan alam di bawah kakinya. sesederhana aku menyayangimu dan tak ingin meletakkanmu di bawah kakiku. aku tak paham mengapa mereka menyebut dirinya mencintai alam, namun yang dibawa di punggungnya hanya tugas menyombongkan kejantanannya; dan tak pernah ingat mengagungkan alam yang menyapanya tanpa jarak.

thesoviette:

Jean-Luc Godard, La Chinoise (1967)

(via philosophy-of-praxis)