GRAPE POP
Caring is
the only daring Oh you know it
![In the 1970s, artist G. C. Haymes sent approximately 500 letters to high profile people as part of a project entitled Skymail. Enclosed alongside the letters were return postcards, upon which the recipients were asked to DESCRIBE THE SKY. Above, the original letter; here, two [of the 28] replies Haymes received - written by authors Isaac Asimov and [an excellently prickly] Jerzy Kosinski. [from Letters of Note, via Katija - see also Linda, Sherry, and Mickey’s letter to Eisenhower about Elvis: whatever you do, don’t touch his hair!]](http://21.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kspc4vvTrv1qzylvwo1_400.png)
In the 1970s, artist G. C. Haymes sent approximately 500 letters to high profile people as part of a project entitled Skymail. Enclosed alongside the letters were return postcards, upon which the recipients were asked to DESCRIBE THE SKY. Above, the original letter; here, two [of the 28] replies Haymes received - written by authors Isaac Asimov and [an excellently prickly] Jerzy Kosinski. [from Letters of Note, via Katija - see also Linda, Sherry, and Mickey’s letter to Eisenhower about Elvis: whatever you do, don’t touch his hair!]
STEVIE WONDER PLAYING THE DRUMS
Epigraphs at HTMLGIANT: Whatever whoever thinks of its merits as a novel, I think Danielewski’s opener to his House of Leaves is pretty neat: “This is not for you.”
Here’s a page from Wilfried Hou Je Bek’s translation of parts of the ancient Sumerian Epic of Gilgamesh into the pictograms used by ape researchers.
111. Goethe also worries about colors and pain, though his reports sound more like installments from the battlefield: “Every decided colour does a certain violence to the eye and forces the organ to opposition.” Instantly I recognize this phenomenon to be true from my years of working in a bright orange restaurant. I worked in this restaurant for ten-hour shifts, from 4pm to 2am, sometimes later. The restaurant was incredibly orange. In fact everyone in town called it “the orange restaurant.” Yet every time I came home from work and passed out in my smoke-drenched clothes, my feet propped up on the wall, the dining room reappeared in my dreams as pale blue. For quite some time I thought this was luck, or wish fulfillment — naturally my dreams would convert everything to blue, because of my love for the color. But now I realize that it was more likely the result of spending ten hours or more staring at saturated orange, blue’s spectral opposite. This is a simple story, but it spooks me, insofar as it reminds me that the eye is simply a recorder, with or without our will. Perhaps the same could be said of the heart. But whether there is a violence at work here remains undecided.
- Maggie Nelson, Bluets
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
(via likeneelyohara)
